Triple Entente
by lockheedelektra
Summary: Madeleine is just your ordinary eighteen year old tomboy--except for the 'pulled into an alternate universe' deal. Peachy. Now, with a group of her friends and a ragtag bunch of heroes, she must battle the mysterious Cards. And cause collateral damage.
1. Intro: Where the hell are we?

Before I forget...

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN THE AWESOME GAME FIRE EMBLEM: REKKA NO KEN.

So this is my first fanfiction outside the anime genre. I'm of the opinion that I needed something resembling a crackfic to vent any frustrations, so I'm warning you all, this will make absolutely _no sense_ in some places. I probably won't update this in any regular pattern--it's just a bit of good fun that my friends wanted me to do.

So without further ado, I give you the first chapter of Triple Entente.

-LE (lockheedelektra)

* * *

"Oww. . ."

I sat up and rubbed the back of my head, nursing the growing lump there. To my right, Fil was already up, crouching on the ground. To my left, Casey was still lying there like a dead peson, but he mumbled something incoherent now and again.

"Where the hell. . .?" I said, asking no one in particular. Fil answered for me, ice-blue eyes staring straight ahead. "Don't know. I didn't want to wander off and leave you guys unconscious."

"I'm touched," I said, standing up and brushing myself off. My foot nudged Casey in the ribs and he rolled over, groaning, "I'm up, I'm up. . ."

He managed to get off the ground and shook the dirt out of his shaggy black hair. Ocean-blue eyes blinked to get used to the sunlight, and he put his hands on his hips and looked around.

"Well," he began. "I'd say we're screwed. Unless one of you knows where the hell we are."

Both Fil and I shook our heads. Casey cursed under his breath.

"Stupid old bag at Six Flags. . ."

* * *

Flashback

* * *

I brushed aside the purple flap of the tent and poked my head inside. Curiosity had first probed me to peek into the small moth-eaten triangular prism o' cloth; it was far away from the hustle-and-bustle paved roads of Six Flags, so much that I could barely hear the screeches of teenage girls riding the roller coasters.

Nothing against teenage girls. I _am_ one. It's just that I've never been one for screeching. More like hollering. After all, it wouldn't do for a newly christened first-dan black belt to screech, now would it?

It actually was my identity as a black belt that allowed the sign to draw me in. It said, in beautiful and precise calligraphy, _A Challenge for Fighters_.

_Sweet_.

I peered around inside the tent, letting my maybe-green, maybe-brown eyes adjust to the darkness. Tiny white lightbulbs ringed the ceiling of the tent, but their light was dimmed by a thin smoke. A sneaky little scent crept into my nostrils; it felt like incense, but it was somehow. . . cleaner, like fresh air after a heavy rain.

"Welcome, child."

I blinked. In the center of the tent was an old woman, seated on a royal blue cushion. Her silver-gray hair framed her face in two thick braids, and a cerulean shawl the same color as her robes with gold border covered the top of her head. A small red dot rested on her brow, and black eyes fixed upon me as her wrinkled, leather-like face broke into a smile.

"Um. . . hello. . . ma'am. . ."

"Hanna, child. Call me Hanna."

"Hanna. . . I came for the, uh, challenge?"

"Of course, of course. Could you go and gather two other fighters? It requires three."

"Ah. . . okay. . ."

Hanna continued to smile as I drew my head out of the tent and bit my lower lip.

Questions sprang up from the fountain of my mind, filling the basin of consciousness and filtering with the other thoughts seamlessly. I snatched one up before it dissolved into nothing.

_What's 'it'?_

She won't tell you right away. You'll probably find out if you find two more fighters.

Another thought surfaced.

_Who do you get?_

Good question. Any hardcore fighter is always searching for a challenge. Problem is, I'm probably the only one in school who is a hardcore fighter. Still. . . anyone who fights should be interested.

_Who comes to mind?_

Fil Greda and Casey Spargaaren. Fil boxes and Casey's a street fighter, so add me, the martial artist, into the mix, and we should have a good balance going.

I nodded my head and went back into the mainstream roads of Six Flags. I spotted Fil almost immediately, then Casey right afterwards. I headed towards Fil first; I knew him better, and he would be easier to persuade than Casey.

"Oi, Greda."

Fil looked up from staring at the pavement, but he continued to suck down his soda.

"Um. . ." I began, not knowing where to start. Fil's ice-blue eyes looked like they could burn a hole through me for interrupting his alone time. Great. Things were already off on the worst foot possible.

_Better just spit it out._

"Look, I found this tent thing, and the sign outside said that there was a challenge for fighters, and it looked pretty cool. So the woman inside told me that I needed to find two other fighters to participate, so I just kinda. . ." I trailed off, feeling lamer by the second. I should have just crawled into a dark little hole somewhere and died. No way that Greda--one of the coolest guys in our school--would go with it now. I was just some loser battle-crazed tomboy who took things too seriously and--

"Sure."

My mental rant ceased and I focused back on Fil. He had stood up and threw his soda into the trash, muttering, "Tastes like crap, anyway."

"I've already been on the cool rides and stuff. I'll go."

His voice was nonchalant, trying to give the impression that he didn't give a pickle one way or the other. But his eyes told a different story; they had this eager spark in them, shaking itself awake after being dormant for so long. I realized that I must get that spark during tournaments and grinned.

"Who else is coming?"

"Uh. . . Spargaaren."

"He fights?"

"Not officially, he doesn't. Still, it can't be that hard to convince him." I replied as we started heading over to where Casey sat with his friends.

I tapped him on the shoulder and quickly explained the situation; as soon as I mentioned fighting, his eyes lit up like Fil's had, but it wasn't so much a spark as it was a raging fire, one that had reveled in combat and adrenaline for years.

He popped out of his seat and told his posse he'd be back in a little bit before joining Fil and me. As I led them back to the dingy little tent, Casey's curiousity got the better of him.

"So what kinda fighting are we talkin' here? Free-for-all? Tournament? Team matches?"

As we entered the clearing where Hanna's tent resided, Casey's questions ground to a halt.

"In _there_?" He said incredulously. "The big challenge for fighters is in _there_!"

"It is a little. . . cramped." Fil said, obviously paying more attention to common courtesy than Casey did.

"Cramped! We'll barely fit in there, much less fight!" Casey yelled.

It was only then that it hit me that yes, the tent was rather small; I scolded myself for not factoring that in--I scold myself for a lot of things--and my annoyance at my absent-mindedness found an outlet in my mouth.

"Did you ever think we might be fighting somewhere _else_, dumbass?" I snapped, not raising my voice but tipping it with venom so he got the picture. Casey opened his mouth to roar at me again, but Fil put a hand on his shoulder.

"She's got a point." He said evenly. Casey turned his head towards Fil, but ice met ocean with an almost audible crackle of energy, and the black-haired boy found wisdom in keeping his mouth shut.

I turned my attention away from the testosterone bonanza when the tent flaps rustled; Hanna poked her blue-clothed head outside and split into a grin, hobbling onto the grass at the sight of us.

"Oh, excellent, excellent! Speed, strength, and skill! Quite a good bit of luck with you, too. . ." She pointed to Casey. "And you, young man!" Fil minutely raised his eyebrows when Hanna turned to him. "You'll take many hits without going down, I see. And of course, my dear," she turned her black eyes to me, "you can defend against anything, can't you?"

I was a bit curious as to how Hanna knew that I was one of the best defensive fighters in our karate club, but I decided to do as The Beatles advised and let it be.

"Well now!" Hanna punctuated her statement by clapping her hands. "If you'd all gather in the center, please, we could get started."

Hanna ushered us to the middle of her "front yard" and had us stand in a circle, facing each other.

"A little closer now. . . budge up there, don't be shy. . ."

The little old lady gently pushed us closer together until I was rubbing shoulders with the boys--well, more like shoulder and bicep with Casey. I tried to see through the gaps in our bodies, and I could barely make out Hanna drawing on the grass with chalk, circling around us in a complex pattern. When she was finished, she stood at the edge of the circle and placed her palms together in front of her chest.

"Hold on, now. This isn't the smoothest form of interdimensional travel."

_'Da fuck?_

Fil whipped his head towards Hanna and Casey opened his mouth to let out another one of his boisterous shouts, but a blue light erupted from the ground at the edges of the circle and began racing towards us at lightspeed. I closed my eyes against the brightness of it, and it painted my world white before I lost consciousness.

* * *

End flashback

* * *

Casey snarled, his canine teeth looking oddly like fangs in the light that streamed through the thick canopy of trees. "'Interdimensional travel. . .' that old lady was nuts. We're probably just in Yosemite National Park or something. . ."

"Do you even know where Yosemite National Park _is_?"

"I'm not a _complete_ dumbass, Greda!"

I ignored their conversation and took the time to take in my surroundings. The trees around us were tall and thick, possibly hundreds or even thousands of years old. Roots burst forth from the ground, gnarling and twisting around us. The underbrush was thick and tangled, and threads of parasitic vine plants were steadily creeping up the ancient trees--something no self-respecting park ranger would allow.

And there was that same smell. . . that smell that was in Hanna's tent. The scent of a world just blessed by the rain, the scent of a world untouched by modern technology, untainted by the cold ambitions of corporate bastards. There was no place on our earth that had that smell. Even if you had somehow gotten to some rural, secluded place, there was that lingering in the back of your mind that somewhere else, the chaos of steel, concrete, and smog ruled.

But there was no such lingering here. Wherever we had landed, it was utterly pure.

I tried to look up at the sun to gauge what time it was, but my eyes hadn't adjusted yet and the light seared my retinas. Instead I asked Fil, who had been awake longer, to see if he could tell what time it was; he appeared to be sucking on his teeth as he stared into the sky.

"Looks like it's almost noon. Why?"

I stretched, reaching up to the sky with my hands while mentally taking inventory of all that I had on me. My silver snake bracelet was probably worth something--if we got short on cash I could pawn it. My black tank top seemed appropriate for the humid weather, but I wasn't sure what I'd do if it got colder. My army-print cargo shorts held my wallet, glasses, iPod Shuffle, and cell phone, which was probably useless now. At least I had my music.

"We should probably start walking, see if we can find a town."

"Oh, like to get a taxi or something." Fil said, which would have made perfect sense if we were still in our own world.

"Taxi? We'll need to get a freakin' _plane_ to get back home!"

"Tell you what, guys--if we can find _any_ mode of modern transportation, I'll pay the fare."

* * *

We didn't.

It turns out that the forest we were on was atop a cliff; we had to wander along the edge for a while until we found a hill that sloped down towards a bustling yet medieval-looking town. Along the way, I explained my theory that we really _had_ been taken to another world to the guys, who regarded it with an expected amount of skepticism until we reached the town.

The tiny path we had been following widened to a cobblestone street, bordered on both sides by simple stone-and-wood buildings; most of them had a first floor that acted as a business, like a tavern or a blacksmith's shop, and the second floor was presumably living quarters for whoever owned the business. Fil grinned as we passed a brothel, but I smacked him upside his mahogany-haired head before he could wander off.

"We're not here for extracurricular nookie, you idiot!"

"Why not? We're all legal. And by the look of it, we're in a different world, like you said. It'll take a while for us to get back home."

My eye was going to start twitching any time now. Fil was smart and responsible in general, but when he put his mind to mischief, he was damn near insufferable. Because he made perfect sense.

I managed to calm myself down and began listing off my arguments, jabbing my forefinger into Fil's chest with every point I made. Karate calls it, 'Ippon Nugite'. I call it, 'The Poke of Doom'.

"Well, if it will take so long to get back home, smartass, we should focus on getting jobs instead of screwing around with whores! Then at least we'd have some legitimate money to spend. And what kind of horrific diseases do you think those girls are carrying, huh? You could get syphillis or something we've never even heard of! And just how advanced do you think birth control is here, anyway? You ready to be a daddy? _Well are ya?_"

Fil rubbed his chest, which was undoubtedly starting to bruise by now. "Stop with the poking! I'll stay away from it, okay?"

I mumbled a 'you better' before turning to Casey, who surprisingly hadn't strayed one step towards the brothel. When I gave him a strange look that was plainly questioning the presence of testosterone in his body, he folded his arms defiantly.

"I've had a girlfriend since seventh grade, all right? I ain't throwin' her away for some cheap whore!"

I had to admire Casey right then; even if he had a short temper and often was lacking in brain cells, he wasn't stupid or rash enough to toss aside something precious to him. He took the humble path most of the time, and treasured the good things in his life.

"Anyways, we should look around and see if there are any jobs available."

* * *

"So _you're_ not hiring either."

I was leaning over the counter of a bar in a dingy, poorly lit tavern, speaking to a gruff, middle-aged man who looked to be both the bartender and the owner of the tavern. He was busying himself cleaning off a mug, seemingly disinterested in the fact that our trio had yet to find a job. Fil and Casey were on either side of me, trying to look as gruff and badass as the man before us. The barkeep shook his head curtly, then set down the glass before picking up another one.

"If you're really desperate, you can go to Lord Claudius's castle. I hear he's been in want of a few bodyguards."

"What happened to the original bodyguards?" Fil asked, ordinarily almond ice-eyes narrowing in suspicion.

The barkeep leaned both his arms on the counter, looking at the three of us greenies like we were morons.

"There are two ways for bodyguards to leave the business, kid. An' they didn't quit."

* * *

"So _why_ are we going to this guy's castle again?"

"Because we need a job. We're good at fighting, so now we'll fight for a living. It's perfect."

"Besides the whole high-chance-of-death thing."

Fil has this odd little grin that he gets when he's feeling particularly smug or witty or mischievous; he doesn't actually show teeth, but he stretches his smile so wide it almost reaches his ears. Everyone who sees it knows that some degree of evil laughter is running through his head.

I rolled my eyes, brushing my dark brown bangs out of my face. "Look, there's always a chance of death whenever we fight--it's actually greater for you two than it is for me. Besides, this'll probably pay more than busing tables at a greasy spoon."

The guys grumbled a little, but stayed silent as we walked down the narrow cobblestone path that led to Lord Claudius's castle. Every five feet, on either side of the path, was a perfectly groomed topiary, and they all depicted the great Lord Claudius. He was brandishing his sword like a warrior, digging into books like a scholar, or swinging children around like a damn saint.

The wall surrounding the castle was tremendous, with huge red banners flying down the sides. There were at least four flags on each tower, and the arched front door went halfway up the wall. There wasn't a moat, which was downright stupid; since the castle wasn't atop a hill, its only defense was the high walls, which could easily be breached with a ballista or a catapult. Lord Claudius either had very few enemies or a very crappy architect.

When we were about twenty feet from the wall, a guard poked his head over the top and shouted down at us.

"Halt! Who goes there?"

"I got this one, guys," I muttered before yelling back a reply. I'd seen enough period dramas and Renaissance festivals to know how to talk. "Greetings, knight! My name is Madeleine, and these are my escorts, Fil and Casey! We are traveling to the house of a friend of my father, but we appear to be a bit lost! If it would not trouble the great Lord Claudius, we ask that we may have room and board for a night, and perchance an opportunity to get our bearings!"

The guard disappeared again, and Casey and Fil had time to once again question my judgement.

"We're your 'escorts'?" Casey said venomously, jabbing the air with the infamous 'air quotes'.

"Hey, it's practically the Middle Ages out here! Young ladies don't travel alone!"

"Exactly," Fil said, ice-eyes glittering. "Without us strapping young men, she simply wouldn't know what to do."

"That's funny. You're a funny guy." I said sarcastically, giving Fil my deadpan look that managed to freak everybody out. It's a talent. "And before you start asking about jobs, I'll get to that. Step one is just getting inside."

I turned back to the doorway, and there was a pregnant silence as we waited for some kind of response; I tensed reflexively when I heard the sound of dull, metallic clanking behind the huge wooden doors. _Relax, relax. You're faster when you're relaxed. _

From what little I knew about the structuring of castles, I guessed it was a portcullis being raised; the wooden doors swung inward then, revealing a path made of sparkling granite that cut through the lush courtyard to the real castle. Instead of topiaries, this road was flanked by soldiers in shining armor. Lord Claudius had a dramatic streak.

More importantly, though, we were in.

Our trio walked down the path silently, Fil and Casey on either side of me; I could see the boys casually observing the guards, ready for a surprise attack. I was doing the same, but the guards seemed trustworthy and focused enough; the most aggressive thing they were doing was likely wondering why we were dressed so strangely. Casey looked like a gangsta with his sagged jean shorts, white muscle tank top, and thin silver chain around his neck; Fil was slightly less menacing, since he kept his shorts around his waist and had a navy blue hoodie with the sleeves cut off. My own clothes, modest enough back home, probably marked me as a whore in this world. Scratch that, even the whores were wearing dresses.

_So much for first impressions. . . we'll have to do some fast talking if we wanna get a job._

The actual castle was done up in similar fashion as the wall, with red banners, flags, etcetera, etcetera, and was still quite massive--I began to think the good Lord Claudius was overcompensating for something.

There was no front door, only an empty archway that opened into blackness. My pace lagged a bit; I've always had a latent fear of the dark, and I was wary of the abyss before us. I really only got afraid when my mind started working against me, imagining every little sound as a disembodied hand knocking at the window. . . or something like that. I never really knew when my phobia would kick in.

But the boys strode on, macho and fearless, so I made a few long strides to catch up to them. _If you talk shit, you gotta be able to back it up._

Once inside, I felt the darkness pressing in on me, dank and suffocating. I stemmed any thoughts of reptilian flesh eaters leaping upon me and tried to control my heart rate; as soon as I got it back to normal, torches on the walls flared up, searing my retinas for the second time that day and sending my heart into overdrive again. With the room illuminated, I relaxed faster and took in my surroundings.

The light of the torches didn't extend throughout the whole room, which made me twitchy; each of the four corners were still cast in darkness. In between the torches, thick tapestries decorated the walls; a plush red carpet led to a golden, jewel-encrusted, and honestly uncomfortable-looking throne, which was. . . empty.

"Hey. . . don't throne rooms usually come with kings?" Casey said, looking around while clenching and unclenching his fists. Fil's eyes narrowed until they were cold slits; he bent his knees just slightly, prepared to pounce on any assailant. I decided that I'd already milked the sense of sight, so I let my hands fall to my sides and closed my eyes, deciding to practice something my sensei had taught me long ago.

When we really think about it, sight is one of our most limited senses. Your ears can hear things two rooms over in any direction, your nose can distinguish the most subtle of differences in smell, and every centimeter of your skin is coated in nerves that detect pain, temperature, and texture. But you can only see in front of you.

I pushed outward with my sense of hearing first, catching the steady inhale-exhale rate of the boys, then the crackle of flames in the braziers. When I ventured into the dark corners, I thought I had heard something breathing in each corner, but it was too faint to be sure. Keeping up my hearing, my nose twitched slightly as I began sniffing at the air.

The boys were wearing cologne, thankfully not too much or I would have fainted. The walls smelled like old stone, musty and stale with age. Again, the corners held a peculiar scent, something like sweat and sun-warmed skin. Almost certain that we weren't alone in the room, I began honing the trickiest sense to perfect: touch.

Ordinarily, you can only feel something if it comes in direct contact with your skin, but I had to extend it further, so much that I could feel the spots of warmth that were Casey and Fil, even though they were both two feet away from me. I felt the flickering heat of the torches against the stark coldness of the lifeless walls, then hesitantly moved towards the corners of the room.

There were actually tunnels cut into the rock, empty and blank; I was beginning to move on when I felt blobs of raging heat emerging from the tunnels. That kind of heat only comes from humans charging into battle.

"It's a trap!"

My eyes snapped open as our assailants sprung from the corners of the room; two men with swords headed for Casey, following the 'let's you and me team up on the big guy' strategy; the one brandishing a huge axe lunged at Fil, who began dodging with a rare grace; I whirled around, barely dodging a strike from a spear, and I felt a small cut open up on my cheek.

_This guy's fast!_

He swept at my legs then, and I jumped up, making sure to lift up my knees. I did a quarter turn and slammed my feet onto the polearm when I landed. I felt the wood splinter and crack underneath my weight, then snap entirely.

_Bunkai in action! Thank you, sensei!_

I shot my left foot forward into a stance and unleashed the Shotokan style's infamous reverse-punch to the man's stomach; when he doubled over, I shifted out of the way and elbow-struck his back. He fell flat on his stomach, right on top of his busted spear. He made horrid gasping sounds, and I began to feel that I'd gone too hard on him. When I'd broken his spear, I could have tried to talk with him and make him surrender, but then I'd gone and punched him--by the spots of blood he was coughing up, I might have damaged an internal organ. The elbow strike might have broken his back, and landing on his spear would have knocked the wind out of him. . .

Feeling grim, I diverted my attention to the boys to see how they were doing. I winced on reflex when I looked to Casey; apparently he'd used the two goons' swords against them. That scene was so excessively bloody that I turned automatically to Fil's theater, which wasn't much better. His opponent was beaten black and blue, punch-cuts adorning his skin, bones protruding from various places. My stomach felt mildly sick, but I realized that we'd have to be willing to hurt people from now on. This would probably only be our first fight of many.

As our trio exchanged glances, I couldn't shake the feeling that we had started something. In one day, we had been thrust into a strange new world, and by that same token had taken a path that would force us to make decisions that would shape us into the people we would become, whether we liked it or not. All of a sudden, there was no one there to give us advice, no one to hold our hands when the going got rough.

Our fates had been set in motion. It was entirely up to us which direction it would go.

* * *

So, what do you think? Tell me inyour reviews, and check up on my new-and-improved profile if you wish to see how the rest of the story is coming along. 


	2. The First Trio

I live! And I bring with me the second chapter! Just remember...

I DUNNA OWN FIRE EMBLEM!! I do wish I had a wyvern, tho'...

And so, without further ado, I give you the second chapter of Triple Entente.

-LE (lockheedelektra)

* * *

"Marvelous, truly marvelous."

The three of us turned our heads to the door to the left of the throne, where the voice had come from. A short man was emerging from the tunnel in the corner, his red velvet tunic cinched around his ample belly with a golden rope. The tunic extended to the ground, but he walked with that bow-legged waddle reserved for the overfed and overpriviliged, a crimson cape secured around his shoulders with golden thread. A golden circlet crowned his balding head, wispy gray hair only starting just above his ears. At least he hadn't tried that stupid comb-over thing. This man was a cueball and proud of it.

The person beside him, however, could only be described as the anti-Madeleine made flesh.

I've always considered myself pretty average-looking; brown hair at about shoulder length, hazel eyes, the occasional breakout on my pale skin. I never looked horribly feminine, abandoning the 'soft' look for some lean muscle, but my Lebanese blood (all one-eighth of it) keeps me from being slender. My chest is just a little bigger than average, which is more of a nuisance than anything when trying to fight.

So this girl--even just physically--was the total opposite. I had to remind myself that silicone implants had not yet been invented in this world; the rest of her body was slender and pornstar proportionate. (_Was there porn in this age? _I wondered. _Probably sex shows or something_.) Her hair was long and flaxen blonde with a soft curl, eyes a cornflower blue. She wore a sleeveless dress of pure white, and carried what looked like a pimp cane with a round sapphire on top. She smiled charmingly at the boys, apparently not noticing me, while the little fat man introduced himself.

"I am Lord Claudius, the ruler of these lands. This is my niece, Celeste."

"Oooh!"

Celeste had nodded to all of us politely, throwing the boys sultry looks from under pale blonde eyelashes, but her excited cry had emitted when she finally saw me. Immediately she rushed over, throwing her arms around my neck and pressing her body against mine.

I should probably take this time to mention that I'm vaguely bisexual. As in _vaguely_. As in I do not appreciate being half-tackled by medieval pornstars, or anyone really, except for close friends. I'm just not a very sexual person; it's rare for me to _want_ someone so badly I come onto them. What I wanted right _now_ was for this bitch to get off of me.

_Don't start gettin' rude! Must not dis future boss's niece!_

"Um... can I help you?"

"You're... you're just so confident! Other women hide themselves, but you show no shame..." She pulled back to stare in my eyes, which made me even more uncomfortable. Her next sentence came out breathy and sultry, in that tone that anyone else but me would find irresistibly sexy. "It's amazing..."

_What, this is about what I'm **wearing**? What the fuck is this!_

Lord Claudius cleared his throat loudly. "Celeste... my guards..."

"Oh! Right," she said, detaching herself from me, a reluctant barnacle that jiggled too much. Celeste flounced first over to Casey's victims, and her 'pimp cane' emitted a blue light that stiched together the men's cuts. I had no doubt that she would have started flirting with them, too, if there weren't more people to heal. Hey, I try not to judge people by the way they sexually express themselves, but I know you're all thinking _HO_, and so was I.

Claudius turned back towards our trio, smiling amiably. "I apologize for the attack. I wanted to test your skills, you see."

At our confused looks, the Good Lord Claudius deigned to explain things to us sweaty commoners. "A servant of mine was collecting taxes at the tavern where you enquired about a job opening. He notified me as soon as he returned that you would be coming this way, and I wanted to be sure of your ability to protect me."

"So... that was our interview?" Casey said, glancing over his shoulder as he jerked his thumb towards the now-recovered guards. "Are we hired?"

Celeste brushed past us and went back to Claudius's side, holding her mini-staff close to her chest, leaning close to him with the air of a little girl asking her father to buy her that pretty doll in the window. "We'd get them some new clothes, right? Except for the girl, she's fine like that..."

Suppressing the urge to engage in a round of 'strangle the ho', I spoke up. "My name is Madeleine, not 'the girl'. These are my comrades, Fil and Casey."

"Ah, we've been promoted to comrades, have we?"

"Can it, Fil."

Claudius cocked his head as though he was deep in thought, then gave the affirmative nod to Celeste's question. She jumped in the air and clapped her hands, giving the predictable 'Eeee!' of joy. She instantly grabbed Fil's hand as well as mine and jerked us out the front door, leaving Casey to jog after.

The black-haired brawler turned to Fil once he caught up to the group. "I take it that means we're hired?"

* * *

"This one! She'd like this one!" 

"No. No I would not."

I ripped the yellow frilly cloth out of Celeste's hands as gently as I could, placing it with the rest of the fabric swatches. We'd been in the tailor's shop for going on two hours--the boys had gotten their new threads in about an hour, and had even picked up some boots at the cobbler's. Fil's top was in a Chinese style, sleeveless and black with some silver frog fastenings. He'd traded in his shorts for light gray pants, and tucked them into his knee-high black boots in what seemed to be the fashion for this area. Casey simply had a navy blue vest that he kept closed, and baggy black pants that tucked into his own pair of boots, though he'd refused to give up his chain necklace. Strips of cloth were wound around his knuckles, largely because it looked cool but also to protect his knuckles and keep his hands from breaking.

I only wished that finding clothes could be so simple for me.

"But--but you would look so cute in it!"

"Celeste," I hissed, hiding my venomous words behind my teeth, "I need something that I can fight in. Okay?"

I turned my head to the tailor, a demure man with tiny reading glasses perched on his nose. "Do you have anything in green? Something kind of lightweight, but still durable?"

The tailor nodded and began digging through a pile of cool-colored fabrics before extracting a small scrap of jade-green cloth and handing it to me. I rolled it around in my hands, noting how the texture wasn't too abrasive and how it resisted being torn when I tugged on it. The color was a plus, too. Definitely better than that goddamn yellow.

"I'll take it."

The tailor and I worked out the specifics of my outfit, ignoring the constant whining of Cleric Barbie, and an hour later I emerged from the little shop triumphant. We'd turned the little piece of fabric into a vibrant green Chinese-style dress, complete with slits up the sides and bell sleeves. I'd decided to wear a pair of loose, cream colored pants underneath, and bound my breasts to keep them from getting in the way. The kind tailor had even thrown in a pair of kung-fu slippers to boot, and put a decidedly Celtic looking trim on the edges of the sleeves. Surprise move, but hey, I wasn't complaining.

I'd kept the precious few pieces of our world that I'd brought with me, stashing them in a small brown leather bag that the guards gave to me as a housewarming gift. They'd also tossed in these things called vulneraries that they said would heal me if I got injured, which I thought was a very nice gesture considering I'd beaten the crap out of one of their own. They also let the boys and I spar with them, since as far as I knew we were the only ones who didn't use weapons and we needed more experience. They almost became like friends; it was fun sparring them, and we usually took the 'well played' frame of mind when we did lose. Our bodyguard services mainly consisted of standing next to Claudius and looking tough while he attended banquets or addressed his people, which was just about as boring as working the drive-thru at the Arby's. After only a week, we'd almost entirely become a part of this new world.

I guess it fit that we'd be thrown for a loop again.

* * *

My fist shot forward, ramming into Fil's cheek; he twisted for a second, then flung himself back to face me, bringing around a vicious right hook. I realized as I blocked that it would take more than one blow to floor the boxer, who seemed to have a skull made of titanium. His left flew out in a jab, which I pivoted to avoid, and Casey snuck up behind me and put me in a headlock; I felt my air supply closing off and shoved my elbow into his trim stomach, hoping that the impact would travel past his abs and make him let go. 

Thankfully, he released me and I spun away, arms raised in a fighting position. "Just sparring, idiot! No lethal moves!"

"Hey, I'm dynamite! I can't help it!"

I rolled my eyes; both the boys had maniac grins as they turned on each other this time, reveling in the glory of a three-way free-for-all. I enjoy fighting too, but damn! They could be bleeding their brains out and they wouldn't care.

Casey lunged forward, arms outstretched, and Fil darted between them, landing two punches on his stomach and chest. The street fighter started toppling backwards, but not before snatching onto Fil's shirt and pulling him in for a brain-rattling head-butt. Both boys landed on the grass and went into wrestling mode; I was just about to kick back with some popcorn and enjoy the show when one of the guards came running towards us, in full armor, spear clutched in his right hand.

"Comrades! The castle is under attack!"

Casey and Fil stopped their grappling and sprung up; I discarded my box of popcorn and jogged over to him. "Under attack by who?"

"Bandits, by the looks of it, though I know I saw mages within their ranks. You must come with us; they're almost at the gate--"

Just as he spoke those words, the wooden doors were blown inward by a tremendous flaming meteor. _Just like in the action movies._ I would have laughed if the situation wasn't so grim.

Casey did laugh, though it wasn't so much at the irony of things as it was maniacal. "That's what I'm talkin' about! Some _action_!"

He and Fil sped over to the fray, seizing the first two who made it through the gates and pummeling them into the ground. Two companies of the guard stayed with them, maintaining a defensive position at the gates. I ran through the list of the battle strategies we'd been taught, and determined that our main cavalry, headed by the paladin Julian, would soon be pushing into the battle to drive away the attackers.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Julian emerge from the stables and took off for him. I wanted to join them in this fight, but Julian was something like a control freak; he'd be pissed if I went with his company without his permission.

"Sir Julian!"

He paused atop his mahogany horse and looked down at me quite irritably. With good reason, there _was_ a battle going on.

"Sir Julian, I would be honored to fight alongside your men in this battle. Please, surely my skills are adequate?"

His answer was swift. "You are a good fighter, Madeleine, but the middle of the enemy's lines is no place for a woman, no matter how well they can punch." And with that, he cantered off, his men following loyally behind him.

As for me, I had completely ignored his words, and followed the horses' path through the sea of people. Hey, I'm a girl that was raised on _Xena: Warrior Princess_. If I want to fight, I'm gonna fight. The whole courtesy thing is just an insurance policy.

As soon as I broke through the gates, a spear-point shot towards my head, and I was forced into a Matrix-style backbend. I turned it into a flip-flop, kicking my assailant in the chin before landing in my fighting stance. Someone lunged at me in my peripheral vision, and I lashed out with a side-thrust kick to his gut. He doubled over, something nasty oozing from his mouth, and I felt my blood surge hot through my veins. Another one came at me, this time with a sword; I stepped neatly to the side and bent his wrist back so he dropped his blade, then elbow-struck him in the nose and socked him in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him.

He dropped and there was a rush of triumph through my system, but as I looked around, I saw that my comrades weren't faring so well. We had no spellcasters in our number, and most of our men's resistance against magic was weak. Slowly, we were losing.

Suddenly a wave of heat passed over me, and I looked to the side to find one of our soldiers on fire. The man was clearly panicking, so I tackled him to the ground. After hissing, 'roll, goddamn you, roll!' I popped back up and scanned the turmoil for the nearest mage. He found me before I found him, as demonstrated by the tendril of flame that zoomed past me, singeing my arm badly. I looked to the source of it and snarled at the orange-haired man holding a heavy book, who smirked arrogantly at me. A ball of flame appeared in his free hand, and I dodged the blast when he sent it my way, running full-tilt towards his slight frame.

A fireball rocketed towards my legs just as he entered my range, but I jumped up, twisting my hips in mid-air to deliver a spinning roundhouse kick to his skull. There was a sickening _crack_, and he went down, blood trickling from his scalp.

I paused to catch my breath since no one was flying at me for the moment, when I heard an odd cry, almost like an eagle, from above my head. Looking up, I saw a massive shape up in the sky. Without my bidding, the cliché _Superman_ lines entered my head.

Is it a bird? _That's one huge mofo of a bird if it is._

Is it a plane? _Planes haven't been invented yet, dumbass!_

Is it a… wyvern?

_Oh shit._

The huge creature landed, gray-green scales shining over corded muscle. It roared viciously, and the young man atop it thrust his lance into the air with a battle-cry. I was on the verge of having a conniption—our once-simple brigand enemies had fucking _wyverns_—when the young man rammed his lance into the chest cavity of one of the very brigands we were fighting. Looking around, I saw that new faces had entered the fray, and another wyvern and three pegasi were flying in from the skies.

The word 'reinforcements' had never sounded so good.

The enemies in my vicinity had become preoccupied with the Wyvern Lord that had just dropped in; the young man—probably not much older than me—was fighting with incredible skill, his lance and sword flashing in the light. It was almost mesmerizing.

I remembered to mind my surroundings and glanced around me, noticing an archer taking aim at the young man too late. The arrow fired just as my feet began to move, and it struck the boy in the side, toppling him off his wyvern. The tremendous beast screeched in rage, and the archer bounded over to him, planting a foot on the Wyvern Lord's chest as the boy lay on his back. He notched an arrow, knowing that at that distance it would go right through his skull.

Without thinking, I charged towards the two, leaping into the air at precisely the right moment so that my flying kick landed on the archer's temple, the most vulnerable spot on the human head. I landed with his head still beneath my foot, and I felt his skull split under my weight.

Pushing down the guilt that killing people still brought, I turned back to the Wyvern Lord. Now that I got a good look at him, he wasn't all that bad-looking—certainly not the usual thug-type that seemed to inhabit this area. Both his eyes and his hair were a bright, rich green, his form lean and elegantly muscled like a panther. He stumbled up, wrenching the arrow out of his side with ease after breaking the shaft. I took note of how most of our enemies had taken up arms against different opponents and decided it was safe to talk for now. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. Thanks for saving me; that was a nice kick."

I shrugged, feeling more casual once I heard him speak. I was just about sick of talking like I was King Arthur's court. "All in a day's work. I can take you inside the castle, there's a Cleric who can heal you."

"I'd appreciate that." He smiled warmly and gestured to his wyvern, which had repositioned itself so that it was closer to us. "It would go faster if we rode on Hyperion—if he doesn't scare you, he can frighten some people…"

I chuckled lightly. "I don't scare too easy. I think he's magnificent. What's your name, by the way?"

"Heath. And you?"

"Madeleine."

We were about to clasp each other's forearm in the traditional greeting for the age, but before we could make contact, I saw an axe-wielding baddie sneak up behind Heath. On impulse, I brushed past the green-haired man and caught the brigand with a hook kick to the back of his knee; pivoting to avoid his axe as he fell, I struck him in the spine with an axe kick once he was on the ground. _Huh. Ironic._

Checking on Heath, I saw that he had also moved to shish kebob a mercenary who had been trying to sneak up on _me_. He yanked his sword out of the man's gut and gave a slightly weary grin. "To the castle?"

I nodded, and he sprung onto Hyperion, extending a hand to help me up once he was secure in his saddle. My brow furrowed as he winced in pain when he pulled me up. "Is it your side?"

"I'll live," he ground out, checking to make sure I was situated behind him before taking the reins. "You'll want to hold on," he added, barely giving me enough time to clasp my arms around his waist before Hyperion kicked into the air.

The wind whooshed in my ears as we rose; people shrank until they looked like dolls, and the whole battle was suddenly visible to my eyes. I released a laugh, though I wasn't sure if it was from the awesomeness of flying or if I was giddy from the lower oxygen levels.

Arrows were fired in our direction as we flew towards the castle, but either they didn't reach us or bounced off the breastplate that Hyperion wore on his underbelly. We soared over the outer walls easily and descended behind the line our Knights and Cavaliers had made. The ground fairly shook and a small dust cloud billowed out underneath Hyperion as we landed. I felt Heath sway slightly and my brow furrowed. "Sure you're all right?"

"Yeah… I'm just a little…"

He slumped to the side suddenly and my arm barely shot out in time to catch him. Hyperion craned his long neck around to watch us, emerald eyes showing concern for his master. Heath panted harshly, and I could feel his temperature skyrocketing even through his clothes.

"Shit… musta been… poisoned…"

I swore and bit my lip, then glared out at the soldiers who were gawking at the wyvern. "What are you all standing around for? Someone get Celeste, we've got a poisoned man here!"

One of the men took off for the castle; not an instant after he entered, Celeste warped into the vicinity and zoomed over to us just as we dismounted. "How'd you get here so fast?"

Celeste tut-tutted as she tucked her Warp Staff away (somewhere) and took out her Restore Staff. "Dear Madeleine, I can always tell when a handsome young man is in need of my services."

I saw Heath roll his eyes in my peripheral vision, but he didn't complain as Celeste held her stave next to him; the staff glowed faintly, and green mist was drawn from the wound into the orb that topped the staff. Heath tensed for a millisecond, then relaxed as the last of the poison left his system. He nodded in thanks to Celeste, smiling gently. She got that rabid look in her eyes—the look she'd gotten when she first saw me—and whipped out her Heal Staff.

"I can heal you if you'd like! It's no bother at all!"

"Erm…" Heath sweatdropped and got a nervous grin. "That's really okay, I've got a vulnerary…"

Celeste opened her mouth again, but I stopped her before she could say anything, grabbing her shoulder and turning her in a different direction. "Oh, look! That cute myrmidon over there seems to be in pain!"

The blonde cocked her head to the side before rushing off to the aforementioned myrmidon eagerly, all thoughts of Heath out of her mind. I turned back to Heath in time to watch him chug down the last of his vulnerary; some steam emanated from his wound and it stitched itself closed. The leather flask separated from his mouth with a light _pop_, and he wiped his mouth clean with his sleeve. "Thanks for that. Girls like that… they're so annoying."

"Hey, anytime. You ready for another round?"

He grinned, looking oddly like Fil and Casey when they were in the throes of battle. Tch. Men. "Hell yes. So long as you give me some ground cover."

"My man, we have a deal."

* * *

The neck of the last remaining archer cracked under my foot, and I looked to the skies, panting heavily. I was sore, hungry, and covered in a variety of nasty substances, but the day was ours. Heath saluted me from his place atop Hyperion, and I headed back to the castle, where Lord Claudius was conferring with the leader of the group that had come to aid us. 

Along the way I met up with Fil and Casey, who were equally as tired as I now that the adrenaline was wearing off.

"So, how many'd you get?" Casey asked casually, hooking his thumbs in the belts that crisscrossed over his hips. Fil sucked on his teeth as he tried to come up with a number. "About… twenty-three and a half."

"How can you get twenty-three and a half?"

"Well, I was working on this one dude when this guy with a braid came outta nowhere and practically chopped him in half. He was pretty cool, actually."

"Yeah? What was his name?" I asked.

"Guy."

"We know he's a guy, man. What was his name?"

"That _was _his name. Guy."

Casey shrugged and stretched out his muscled arms as we entered the castle gates. "Well, whatever. All I know is I'm looking forward to a hot meal and a good night's rest."

"You said it."

I glanced around as we walked the stone path toward the castle, hoping to spot Heath. Staves were glowing nonstop as soldiers were healed; the chatter between the different people sounded like low murmurs at this distance. Someone had built an impromptu fire and was cooking up some soup to feed the hungry soldiers. My stomach growled, but our phalanx of fist fighters pushed on. We still had to check in with Lord Claudius, after all.

We entered into the castle proper, where Claudius had stuffed his pudgy little self into his throne. Three people stood before him, all of who turned towards us as we made our entrance. The one in the center was a mild-looking man with a head of fiery orange hair and ocean blue eyes, with a Rapier at his side; to his right was a burly, tall man with dark blue hair and black eyes, an expensive-looking axe resting on his shoulder; on the redhead's left was a woman with long green hair and matching forest green eyes. A finely made katana sat on her hip. All three of them carried themselves very regally—the blue-haired man a little more cocky than the other two—and I found myself almost instantly respecting them.

I didn't get any chance to study them further, though; Claudius extracted himself from his chair, his face turning purple with rage as he pointed at us with a bling-ified finger.

"_You!_" he said accusingly. "You three, you incompetent, lazy _vermin_! How dare you show your faces before me?"

I raised an eyebrow at his sudden anger with us; I felt Casey's temper flare next to me. Fil kept his cool, though, and spoke calmly for us. "Did we do something wrong, Lord Claudius?"

"I'll say!" The tiny lord roared. Some spittle flew out of his mouth. "You three allowed the enemy past the gates! You arrived at the battle late! You're supposed to _protect_ me, dammit!"

Casey had another rare moment of intelligence. "Well, wasn't that your men's fault as much as it was ours? You didn't _seriously_ expect the three of us to hold the gate on our own, did you?"

"It isn't as though we didn't fight at all, my lord. We put all of our efforts into this battle," Fil said, crossing his arms and staring down Lord Claudius. If I didn't know Fil knew better, I would say he was actually _glaring_ at the fat little man. The guards that stood against the walls shifted, readying for a possible attack.

Claudius spluttered angrily. "That doesn't matter! My life was in danger! You should devote all your energy to _my _protection, not defeating the enemy or saving others! Their lives are inconsequential compared to mine, as are yours! You three have no excuse!"

There was a silence after his speech, fraught with tension. My fist clenched, and I saw the green-haired woman place a hand on her katana. My respect for her grew. The muscular blue-haired man swung his axe off his shoulder threateningly, but the redhead remained calm and turned back to face Claudius.

"So," he began, his voice gentle, "that is the kind of ruler you are. I see how it is."

The woman spoke next, venom obvious in her voice. "What kind of Lord places himself before his people? You should be ashamed of yourself."

"A good ruler exists so that he may help his people," the tall man began, his deep voice almost a growl, "but apparently you're just worried about sating your greed."

I stepped forward then, determined to have the last word. The three strangers made good points, and I knew I couldn't continue to serve a man like this. Now that he'd shown his true colors, he disgusted me.

"Well, Lord Claudius, in light of recent events, I've come to a decision. I'm afraid that I can no longer offer my services to you."

Fil and Casey stepped next to me, their posture clearly showing that they sided with me. Claudius's look of rage faded into disbelief, though his face remained purple. "What—what do you mean."

"She means, cueball, that we're sick of your ass. We quit, Lord Claudius. Fuck you very much."

Fil and Casey pounded their fists together behind my back, and the three of us pivoted and strode out of the castle. As we were leaving, I caught the last bit of conversation between the three strangers and Claudius.

"Well, sir, if business is finished here, we'll be taking our leave."

I grinned triumphantly, but paused as I felt someone's hand alight on my shoulder. I turned around to find that it was the woman from before. She smiled at me, her forest eyes showing a certain degree of respect. "That was admirable, the way you stood up to him back there."

I stammered for a moment. "Oh, thanks. I mean, you were pretty cool too, just telling it to him straight like that."

"Excuse me?" I looked past the woman to see that the two men were emerging from the castle, the taller one a few paces before the redhead. "I believe that I am the one who gets the awards for telling it straight around here."

The redhead chuckled as they drew even with our trio and patted the axe-wielder on the back. "Please forgive my friend here. He's a little brash, but he means well."

"Bah! You always apologize too much."

The redhead ignored his comment and turned his focus back to us. "My name's Eliwood of Pherae. From what my men have told me, you three are very skilled on the battlefield. Seeing as how you're currently unemployed, would you care to join us?"

Fil narrowed his eyes almost suspiciously. "What's the catch?"

"Nothing but a little evil-bashing, my good man," the tall man said, clapping Fil heartily on the back. "That is, if you're up to the task!"

Fil shrugged, trying again to appear nonchalant, but I could read the eagerness in his posture at the hidden challenge. "Of course I'm up to it. You two have any objections?"

"None here," Casey said, smirking as he glanced at me. "How 'bout you, Maddie? Evil-bashing sound like too much to handle?"

I cuffed him on the arm. "Yeah right. What do I look like, some kind of delicate princess? I'm in."

The woman snickered and started to say something, but she was interrupted when who else but Celeste broke into our little warrior circle. The blonde Cleric invaded my personal space without hesitation, blue eyes filling with (fake) tears.

"Is it true, Madeleine? Are you really," she sniffled, "going?"

I sighed. "Yes, Celeste, it's true. I'm sorry, it's really nothing personal. Well, it's something personal with your uncle. But not you." Hey, I had _some_ sympathy for the girl.

She pulled back and wiped the tears from her eyes, then shoved my brown leather bag at me. "Take these. They're your things, right?"

I nodded and took the parcel from her grasp, slinging it over my shoulder. Celeste sniffed a few more times, then turned her head upwards again, looking from me to Fil to Casey and back to me again. "I hope—I hope you all have a safe journey. I hope you go far and live a happy life."

My expression softened. Celeste was showing an uncharacteristic amount of maturity; I was almost proud of her. "Thank you, Celeste. I won't forget you."

She moved to glomp me one final time, but stopped herself and rushed away just as quickly as she'd rushed in. I turned my attention back to the three strangers and shifted my weight from one foot to the other. "I guess we should introduce ourselves—I'm Madeleine."

"I'm Fil."

"Casey."

Eliwood made a little bow with his head and the blue-haired man did a strangely modern-looking head nod. "The name's Hector of Ostia."

"I'm Lyndis of Sacae, or Caelin, depending on how you look at it," the green-haired woman said, not bothering with fancy bows. "I believe you and I will get along very well, Madeleine. Sometimes these men's egos get ahead of them."

Lyndis glared pointedly at Hector as she said this, who had the grace to look somewhat abashed. Eliwood chuckled again, his face lighting up before he returned his attention to us.

"We'll set out at sunrise tomorrow. Get some food and drink before then."

Sunrise, huh? No rest for the weary in this world…

* * *

So, love it? Hate it? Be sure to review, people. It's good for you. Builds strong bones.

You're up in the next chapter, Dodds!


	3. The Second Triad

Well, you asked--or maybe you didn't--but I delivered anyways. While I'm pretty proud of this damn long chapter (almost 20 pages, it is), we must never forget that...

I DO NOT OWN FIRE EMBLEM: REKKA NO KEN. Nor do I own the Beastie Boys, Herbal Essences shampoo, and any other pop culture or anime references you recognize.

And so, without further ado, I give you the third chapter of Triple Entente.

-LE (lockheedelektra)

* * *

"Brass monkey! That funky monkey! Brass monkey, chunky—that funky monkey!"

There are few things more fun than perfectly recreating Beastie Boys songs with two of your homies. I'd been wanting to do it with my usual group of friends back home, but it's hard when they can't even tell MCA from Ad Rock. As soon as I found out that Fil and Casey had actually heard of the Beastie Boys, the wheels of my master plan were set into motion.

"This girl walked _by_—she gave me the _eye_—"

Fil was an awesome Ad Rock. Casey did MCA's grainy voice to perfection. If I lowered my voice just slightly, I could pass for Mike D. The lineup was complete, and the power of the Beastie Boys drove us forward. We made crazy expressions and acted out the words; we only faintly noticed how entertaining we were to our new allies, who hadn't heard anything like rap since… ever.

We rapped on, flailing and flashing gang signs—which meant nothing to everybody else, so we figured there wasn't any harm. Fil pop-locked when there was a break in the lyrics and the swordsman we knew as Guy let out a laugh.

"Your music is something else, I'll tell ya. I don't know that I've ever heard anything so ridiculous."

"It might seem ridiculous to you, but I'm sure our music sounds just as strange to them, Guy."

The green-haired swordsman froze up at the sound of a gentle, feminine voice. Priscilla, the reigning Valkyrie of the group, came up next to him atop her horse, a dark bay named Eithlinn. She looked up at the sky with her emerald eyes, the wind ruffling the snow-white feather that stood out against her rich red hair. "I mean, it's good that it's different. I think it's the little differences that make the world beautiful, you know?"

She smiled at Guy and sped up slightly to pause beside Serra, her fellow healer. Guy sighed heavily and stared wistfully at Priscilla as she helped Serra onto her horse so the girl could take a break from walking. The pink-haired Cleric had been complaining about how her feet hurt for a while—she reminded me oddly of Celeste, except she was tougher, so I could tolerate her. Serra smiled gratefully as she mounted Eithlinn, her pigtails bouncing as she straightened herself.

Guy seemed to stare straight through her, though, focusing instead on Priscilla. He sighed again and Fil split into his evil grin.

"So, Guy," he started, drawling out the words, "what do you think of Priscilla?"

The Swordmaster stuttered briefly, then turned a bright pink and stared at the ground. "Well… She's, that is, she's really pretty… and she's always nice to everyone, like, it doesn't matter where you're from or what you do or whatever…"

I nodded in understanding. Lyn had told me all about the prejudice that Sacaeans faced. I had hoped that this land would be free of racism like it was free of the pollution we'd dumped into ours; I quickly found out that wasn't true. Wherever there were kind people, there were bound to be complete dickheads.

"And… when she smiles at ya… it's like she's so happy that you're alive. Makes ya feel… special, y'know?"

He got a smile on his face and tilted his head back, staring up at the sky as he walked. "I just wish I could show her how special she is…"

_Wham._

Guy stumbled back, his expression having shifted from bliss to fear in a nanosecond. Whilst gazing at the sky and contemplating Priscilla, he'd walked smack into Raven. The stern Hero crossed his arms over his broad chest, glaring down at Guy with chestnut eyes. "I hope for your sake that you weren't speaking of my little sister."

The Swordmaster shook his head fiercely and stood up so straight I thought someone had shoved an invisible pole up his ass. Raven continued glaring at him for a few moments when a slender, effeminate hand rested on his shoulder.

"Lord Raven, the rest of the party is moving on. We'll be left behind."

Raven pivoted on his heel and strode off, revealing a monk with long blonde hair that was straight out of an Herbal Essences commercial. Lucien winked at us and trotted off to catch up to the rest of our group. The monk seemed to be the only one with the ability to pacify Raven, and he could _always_ calm everyone else down.

"Think he's gay?" said Casey.

I shrugged. "He's definitely got the urge for Herbal."

Fil chuckled and Guy looked confused. I waved my hand dismissively. "It's a pop culture thing. Don't worry your braided head about it."

The four of us rejoined the crew and I took the time to look around and check if I could remember everyone's name. I spotted Lyndis, Hector, and Eliwood towards the front; a cavalier named Sain—who was quite the pervert, as it turned out—was chatting up Lyn with a shit-eating grin on his face. She seemed irritated, but she tolerated his company. Eliwood was leading his gold Palomino, Cian, instead of riding it so that he could talk to Hector more easily; the two seemed to be rehashing tales of their boyhood as Hector let out a burst of boisterous laughter and Eliwood turned a light pink.

I looked up at the sky next, picking out the two wyverns and three pegasii with ease. The winged horses belonged to the three sisters from Ilia: the money-grubbing Farina, the straight-laced Fiora, and the timid Florina. One of the wyverns, a massive, battle-scarred, majestic beast named Aoife, belonged to Vaida—who was possibly the most intimidating person I'd ever met. But she was also one of the strongest women I'd ever met, so I had respect for her. Heath waved down at me from Hyperion and I waved back, grinning. He had Hyperion do a barrel roll and my heart stopped briefly, but I relaxed when he righted himself.

"Be careful up there!" I hollered.

"Don't worry! I am a professional!"

Vaida soared next to him and gave him a whack on his head. I managed to catch her words. "But you showboat like a newbie."

I rolled my eyes and continued quizzing myself. The armor of our two Generals, Wallace and Oswin, clanked loudly as they pushed on (I had to marvel at their endurance); the wheels on Merlinus's item-laden cart squeaked as the poor donkey tugged it along. Seated on the back of the cart was Erk, who was studying a heavy tome open on his lap. Next to him, Louise giggled as Pent whispered in her ear, tugging her closer to him. Those two went at it like bunnies—but hey, they were full-grown adults. Why stop them?

I saw a form sprawled atop the cart and saw that it was actually the resident Thief, Matthew. I wasn't sure how he could be comfortable atop a rickety cart, but that was his business. On the right of the cart were Karel and Karla, stoic yet badass at the same time. On the left of the cart were Hawkeye—who was so ripped he would dwarf a pro wrestler—and Dart, the rum-swilling pirate who was like a less refined Jack Sparrow.

The sun hit Lucius's hair and drew my attention to him; the only dark magic user of our group, Canas, appeared to be having a deeply philosophical conversation with the Monk. I spotted two heads of bright blue hair and identified them as the gentle but melancholy Dancer, Ninian, and the considerably perkier Bard, Nils, who was also her brother.

A girl with green braids hopped up and down impatiently as a man with mahogany hair looked over her bow; a green-haired man atop a horse viewed the scene with faint amusement. After a brief moment of reaching for their names, I remembered they were Rebecca, Wil, and Rath, the only units besides Louise and Lyn who could use bows.

A red-haired Cavalier trotted up to Sain—who was still hitting on Lyndis—and dragged the boy away by his shaggy brown hair, saying that the lady needed some alone time. It must have been Kent, who was so serious I sometimes wondered if he was some kind of medieval robot. It would be interesting to see him get drunk…

Lastly I saw a group of three black-robed figures. I had been informed that they were former members of the Black Fang, the group of baddies that our new allies had faced before we came along. One of them, Jaffar, creeped me out a little, but he probably had some demons that he had to take care of. He and Legault were both Assassins, but Legault was much more open and charming. The only girl, Nino, was much more dangerous than she appeared. She was an accomplished Mage, but she bounded around the two men like a bouncy ball on Speed. She reminded me of one of my friends back home, Dodds.

Thinking of Dodds made me remember all my other friends, and I felt a pang of homesickness. At the forefront of my thoughts were my three closest guy friends: Dodds, Joe, and Zac. I had different relationships with all three of them, but they were all equally important to me.

I had thought for a period of time that I loved Joe, and I knew he had loved me, but I didn't put it to a halt when I should have and our boyfriend/girlfriend relationship had ended messily. I had been so scared that he would never want to see me again, much less talk to me or be friends again. The friendship had healed after what seemed like ages, and finally we were free to play pool in his basement and watch _Tommy Boy_ together. I always took care not to hurt that relationship now.

Zac was like a combination of a brother and a son to me… except not really. He was a complicated person, and we had a complicated relationship. His life was filled with turmoil, and my first instinct was to try and make it better, to help him get through it. Eventually things did get better for him—he had a girlfriend now, Stephanie, who was pretty much a perfect match for him, and he'd gained more friends after initially opening up to us. I was happy for him, and he was still a big part of my life.

And of course there was Dodds. All through school, he'd been bullied by various idiots who couldn't move past fourth grade in terms of maturity. They would use anything against him—his love for anime, his appearance, even his name. One day in junior year I'd had enough and socked one kid in the nose. That was pretty much our relationship at school: protector and protected. But online, it was a whole different story. It was Dodds who first introduced me to guilds and helped me gain more friends in the community. It was like the Law of Equivalent Exchange from FMA; I defended him from bullies, and he helped me to open up.

_God, I miss those guys…_

"Fear not, child. The ache in your heart shall be soothed."

I jumped about three feet in the air and looked to my right, where who else but Hanna was standing next to me. The little old lady seemed to glide over the ground as I resumed walking. "Hanna? How did you get here?"

"Oh, I'm always here. Just like I'm always in your realm."

I raised my eyebrow. Years of reading manga like _XXXHolic _had given me the ability to decode cryptic utterances. "You can exist in both at the same time?"

"In a way, though it certainly doesn't mean that in your world I'm walking down a street in New York and talking to a girl who isn't there. But that's going off-topic." She turned her smiling black eyes to me. "You'll see your friends soon enough."

I blinked in bewilderment and Hanna glided over to Merlinus's cart, stepping between Erk and Louise and disappearing behind the red curtain that shielded the miscellaneous crap from view. My friends—here? Or would I be sent back to my world?

I was pulled away from my thoughts when a tiny raindrop landed on my nose. I smiled despite myself, having always liked the rain. Everyone else, though, didn't seem quite so enthusiastic.

Eliwood looked up when he felt the drops hit his skin, and he seemed to be analyzing the rain clouds. He then turned and addressed the whole group confidently. "All right, everyone! This rain will probably last into the night, so let's find some cover and set up camp!"

We headed for a group of pine trees ahead, and there was a mad scramble as flying units landed and tents were set up and a fire was ignited via magic. Hawkeye lugged a massive caldron from Merlinus's cart—one handed, too, I was very impressed—and soon there was a stew bubbling in it. Who knew what the hell was in it, but it smelled delicious.

Looking around, I saw Heath toss a rabbit into the air; Hyperion snatched it up and crunched into it, bones and all, before swallowing. The green-haired Wyvern Lord gave him another one before plopping down next to him and patting the wyvern's leg gently. Hyperion curled up and sat next to his master, looking oddly like an oversized, scaly dog with wings. Vaida and her wyvern were nowhere to be seen—something told me they were hunting for fresh meat… or something predatory like that. The four pegasii were tethered to trees, their snowy white wings folded against their bodies as they grazed.

Wait… four?

I pulled my glasses out of my leather bag and looked at the group of winged horses again; yep, there were definitely four, even though we only had three Falcoknights. One of them wasn't tethered, and had dark eyes and a slightly more cream-colored coat where the others were pure white with blue eyes. I glanced about and saw that the lavender-haired Florina was the closest Falcoknight.

"Oi, Florina!"

She started and managed to keep from spilling her stew on herself; I waved at her and she approached, kneeling next to me. "What is it, Madeleine?"

I jerked my thumb at the group of pegasii. "I think we picked up a stray."

She looked to where I was pointing and her delicate brow furrowed. "Oh, the poor thing. He's so far from home…"

"Really? There aren't just, like, wild pegasii flying around?"

Florina shook her head. "There are wild pegasii, but they're only native to Ilia. It's rare to see one all the way out here in Lycia."

I nodded and she went on. "Usually only the domesticated line is trained to be used in battle—you can tell which is which because the domesticated ones are all white like Fionnuala, Conn, and Fiacra." She pointed briefly at the three pegasii, who seemed to be getting along swimmingly with the newcomer. It was soothing, watching the four of those beautiful creatures bond peacefully.

The calm was shattered, though, when an arrow shot through the air and landed in a tree trunk just above the wild pegasus's head. Florina let out a small yelp before rushing over to the pegasii and untying them hurriedly to save them from more arrows; I leapt up as well and sprinted to the spot that the arrow had come from. I arrived just in time to snatch at the cloak of a retreating baddie.

Hauling him towards me, I put on my best 'tell-me-everything-you-know-or-I-shall-beat-the-shit-out-of-you' face. The archer cowered as I lifted him off the ground by his collar.

"You gonna tell me why you were firing arrows at those pegasii?"

He stuttered briefly, then took a deep breath and spat it out. "The… the boss wants that wild one. She says that they're rare around here, and so she wants it."

"See? That wasn't hard."

I dumped him on the ground and was about to say more, but suddenly the boy hollered so loud that I could hear him even over the clap of thunder.

"BOSS! SHE'S TRYING TO KILL ME, BOSS!"

My eye twitched. "You little shithead—"

I was cut off as a bolt of magical lightning just narrowly missed me. I scrambled backwards as another bolt came down from the heavens; I decided that it was time to run for it when I heard people crashing towards me from the bushes. Hey, I'm a good fighter, but I'm not a magician. I can't take on a group of fifteen all by my lonesome.

The first person I saw when I approached the camp was Florina, who was leading the three pegasii closer to the camp; the fourth one trotted along behind her, sensing her gentle nature. "Florina!" I yelled. "We've got trouble!"

Her sky-blue eyes widened. "Trouble? How?"

"I don't know, but I'm pretty sure it involves a bratty chick who knows long-range anima magic."

Florina got a worried look on her face, and she hopped onto Fionnuala, her pegasus. "Come on! I'll get you back to camp so we can warn them."

I joined Florina atop Fionnuala, and we took off at a blinding speed. The other three pegasii followed, and I felt my teeth jar as we landed in the middle of camp. I jumped off immediately and made a beeline for the nearest lord—who happened to be Hector.

"Dude, we've got problems. I think I just pissed off someone who knows Bolting."

The Great Lord smacked his palm to his forehead. "So send out the Falcoknights."

"They've got archers."

"Well, fuck all, then."

He slammed down his bowl of stew and stood, fairly towering over me, his axe slung over his shoulder. "You know if there are any others coming?"

"Fifteen, twenty? I couldn't tell by the sound alone."

Hector sighed and dug into his ear with his pinky. "Well, I'm quite bored, so I'll help out. Eliwood's going to want to as well, and then Lyndis will get angry if we leave her out… how strong are they, besides the one with Bolting?"

"Mediocre, I'd say. I got to one of their archers pretty easily."

He looked up at the sky, the drum of the rain on trees and leaves filling the silence. "We'll get slowed down by the rain if the fight breaks out of the forest… get Matthew out there, definitely; he's got good eyesight. You and the two knuckleheads are willing to throw down, right?"

I nodded. "Always."

He grinned. "Stupendous. Anyone else who wants to fight is welcome, and the magic users should be ready to heal if we need them to."

Hector was about to continue, but there was a flash of light and we were thrown apart. I sprung up when I hit the ground, taking note of the smoking hole in the ground. Damn Bolting. The blue-haired man swore loudly and stood, bellowing out his next sentence.

"It's _on_, people! Move, move!"

Bowls of stew clattered to the ground and weapons clanged as everyone leapt into action. Casey backed out of a bush at lightspeed and appeared to be straightening his pants. "Jesus fucking Christ! That lightning almost took off my—"

He was cut off by a loud thunderclap and a tree toppled to the ground; I looked up once it landed with a deafening _boom_ and paled when I saw the force that had just come to greet us. What I had thought to be fifteen was more like fifty, and it was headed by one pissed-off chick holding a magic tome that was so thick it would kill me if she decided to chuck it at me.

"Where is my _pegasus_?" She screeched, and with a wave of her arm a blast of lightning descended upon the camp. Those with a low Resistance scrambled to get out of the way; I saw the three Falcoknights take to the skies and I dashed off, shouting to Casey and Fil to take out the Archers. I sped through the trees, taking frantic turns until I wasn't sure where I was anymore.

More trees toppled as the Bolting spell did its damage, and the rain began to beat down on my head, impairing my vision and plastering my hair to my head. I swept my bangs out of my face and squinted, trying to make out distinct shapes, but I was blind and deaf to anything but the rain.

An axe bit into my shoulder from behind and I choked back a scream; I lashed out with a back-kick when the axe lifted, pivoting when my foot came down and jabbing at my attacker's throat. I felt his Adam's Apple knock into his throat and he fell back, blood spraying from his mouth. There was a stab in my arm and I wrenched an arrow out of the muscle, releasing a sound of pain and frustration. There was a pause when everything was dead silent, then a scream from somewhere above me—from somewhere in a tree—and the rain turned red for a brief second. Either Jaffar or Legault had just taken care of an Archer for me. No one but an assassin could kill that quietly.

A panicked thought entered my brain. Or was it one of our bow users—Rebecca or Wil or Louise? Maybe there was an assassin working with our enemies; maybe the rain had obscured their vision and so our new friends had thought I was an enemy. How could they tell?

How could I tell?

I breathed heavily, mist coming from my mouth, adrenaline zipping through my circulatory system. Adrenaline and fear. No way to tell. No way to know if I was attacking friend or foe. No way to know if someone was preparing to kill me at this very instant…

"Maddie?"

I screamed—not ashamed to say that I screamed—and spun around, my hands flying up to protect myself. I could see the outline of a figure, tall and lanky, most likely male. The figure stepped closer; I could make out thick dark hair, pulled straight by the weight of the water, but springing into curls at the ends. It was so long that it reached almost to the middle of his back. Another step closer and I could make out more masculine features—a tiny scrap of beard marked his chin, and big brown eyes stared, completely unafraid, into my hazel ones. I knew those eyes.

"_You'll see your friends soon enough."_

"Zac?"

He sighed in relief and pulled me into a hug—Zac was one of the select few who were exceptions to my 'no hug' rule—his lean arms wrapping around my back. "Fucking hell, Maddie. We were so fucking worried about you…"

His voice cracked slightly and I could feel his posture hiccoughing, like he always did when he held back tears. I tightened the hug for a brief second, then released him once his statement sunk in. "We? Who else is with you?"

Zac shrugged, his composure instantly back in place. One of his many talents. "Joe and Dodds. We went looking for you at Six Flags 'cause that was the last place you were seen. There was this lady there who said she'd seen you, and she took us to this tent place… next thing you know," he gestured at our surroundings, "we're here." He pulled back and raised his eyebrows at my outfit. "What the hell are you wearing?"

"It's a long story. All you've gotta know is that there's a fight going on. Where are Dodds and Joe?"

At the mention of a fight, Zac's whole demeanor became more serious; he glanced to either side before grabbing my hand and leading me out of the rain and towards the trees. He spoke as we moved, keeping his voice low. "I thought I smelled blood. Hopefully they'll be all right."

Yeah, about the 'smelled' bit… Zac is kind of a dog-person. That is, he's got incredibly acute hearing and smell—to the point where he can hear dog whistles and can actually track a person by their scent. His senses must have been diluted by the rain, but he still led me to the two boys easily enough.

With a bit of luck, we went undetected, and Dodds and Joe were both safe, waiting patiently under a pine. Dodds was the first to spot me, his light blue eyes glimmering as he stood up from his place against the trunk of the tree. Joe, who had been pacing absently, looked up from the ground and broke into a relieved smile as Zac and I came under the branches of the pine. They both respected my personal space, but I knew that they were just as happy to see me as I was to see them.

I patted Dodds on the back, sharing a smile with him, and I ran my hand over Joe's short-cropped hair, which he never grew longer than an inch and was so blonde it was almost transparent. The four of us shared a silent, serene moment, which was broken as Dodds and Joe gave me a once-over.

"What the hell are you wearing?"

I threw my arms up in mock frustration, but I laughed anyhow. "It's a long story."

I was about to continue, but this world seemed to like interrupting me; there was a neigh from somewhere in the rain, and suddenly the wild pegasus from before was right beside us under the tree, its wings flapping as he tried to clear the water from his feathers. Dodds's jaw pretty much hit the ground, Zac's eyebrows raised until they disappeared into his hair line and Joe looked to me, then the pegasus, and then back to me again. He asked his question hesitantly, his familiar baritone a comfort. "Is it just me, or is there a winged horse standing next to me?"

The pegasus, now sufficiently dry, took notice of the stocky, well-muscled boy from the American south and nudged Joe with his nose. I let out a nervous laugh. "I think he likes you, man."

Joe's aquamarine eyes widened in surprise and he patted the pegasus's nose. "Well, I sure am flattered." He returned the laughter and turned to the two other boys. "So, Dodds, Zac, where's _your_ flying horse?" He said, a note of mock smugness in his voice.

Zac rolled his eyes and Dodds picked up the joke immediately. "Shut up! Just shut up!" He said, turning away as though traumatized. I started to laugh, but I halted when I felt the ground shake as something landed in the clearing. Suddenly serious, I turned out towards the clearing, forcing myself to relax so I could react faster.

A familiar form burst through the rain and entered the dry area under the branches; I took in the short head of royal blue hair and the equally royal blue eyes and relaxed for real.

"What is it, Farina?"

"That wild pegasus from earlier—do you know where it…"

She trailed off as she saw the aforementioned pegasus nuzzling Joe's fuzzy hair, her expression melting from concern into puzzlement. Her petite form always broadcasted her expressions just as loudly as her face did, which was a big change from the reserved Fiora and the withdrawn Florina; her hands rested on her hips and she somehow seemed bigger than she was as she addressed Joe. "And just who are _you_?"

"Hello there," Joe said, his courtesy showing even in this odd situation. "I'm Joe Butler. It's nice to meet you." He inclined his head politely and Farina regarded him somewhat suspiciously, like she didn't believe he was really as polite as he was. "Farina," she said shortly, then turned on the other two. "And you?"

Dodds touched the back of his dark brown head—a nervous gesture he'd developed. "I'm Dodds Colley, and this is Zac Brand."

"Greetings," Zac murmured; his traditional line when he introduced himself. Farina nodded at them before turning to me again. "We're getting you back to the camp. All hell's breaking loose and we need everyone we can get." She jerked her head at the three boys. "Can they fight?"

I glanced them over. Joe could fence well enough and was physically strong; Zac was known as the master of 'sharp pointy things' back home; but Dodds was different from them. Before his growth spurt, he'd looked something like the Pillsbury Doughboy. After his growth spurt he was just as jolly but was as skinny as a stick, with only enough muscle so that he could actually move. Though there was a chance of…

"Yeah, they can fight."

Farina nodded and set her fingers between her lips, whistling loudly. Zac winced but said nothing; Fiacra trotted towards us and the blue-haired Falcoknight mounted him with ease. "Maddie, you and the skinny one hop on. You," she said, pointing at Joe. Farina never was good with names. "Do you know how to ride?"

Joe shrugged. "I've ridden horses before. How bad could it be?"

Farina split into a smirk and let out some light laughter. "All right, then. We'll see how well you do. Take the one with curly hair with you."

She didn't give me time to wish Joe good luck; Dodds had barely clambered onto Fiacra when Farina kicked us off, soaring up into the weeping sky. Dodds let out a whoop and I felt his arms lock around my waist while I tightened my own grip around Farina. "Sorry, Maddie, but I think this is one situation where I have to hug you!"

"I forgive you, Dodds."

In less than a minute the camp was in sight; Farina maneuvered us so that we avoided the lightning that the chick from earlier was still sending out. Dodds swore lightly. "Did you see that? That lightning was right frickin' next to us!"

"Welcome to magic," I said absently, glancing over my shoulder to see if Joe had gotten off the ground safely. Relief flooded me as I saw that both he and Zac were securely on the pegasus.

"Dude, stop making it buck like that!"

"I'm doing the best I can, okay? It's not like he comes with an instruction manual!"

Or not… I sweatdropped and turned forward again. At least they were in the air.

Fiacra landed gracefully and Dodds and I dismounted; no sooner were we off than Farina soared into the sky again, twirling her Javelin above her head. I tugged Dodds over to where Merlinus had parked his cart, checking behind us to make sure that Joe and Zac had landed without incident.

The two quickly caught up with us; Nino, who had stuck behind to guard Merlinus, hopped off the cart when she recognized me. "Madeleine! Are you all right? Who're they? Do you need anything?"

She stopped her questions long enough for me to get an answer in; even when her moss-green hair and everything else was dampened and flat from the rain, her light blue eyes sparkled and her energy still burned bright. "I'm fine, these are my friends, and we need some weapons for them."

"I'd prefer a Longsword, if you have one," Joe piped up, wiping the rain from his face. Nino ducked behind the curtain and extracted a Longsword, tossing it to Joe with surprising ease. In the same heartbeat, she whirled around and let loose with a blast of Elfire. Flames blossomed from her hands like a lethal flower, and a mercenary was blown back from the cart by the force of the blast. He lay on the ground, twitching.

Dodds's face lit up. "That was freakin' awesome."

Nino turned to him, beaming at his compliment. "Thank you! Are you a Mage, too?"

Dodds blinked and cocked his head as he considered the prospect. "Can I blast people with fire like you just did?"

She nodded.

"Then fuck yes I'm a Mage!"

The green-haired girl giggled and handed him a fire tome. Dodds got an evil glint in his eyes and opened the book, cackling maniacally. Joe and Zac rolled their eyes. "Here we go again…"

Zac turned to Nino, his voice taking on the monotone quality he used with strangers. "I'll take a knife. Or a light sword, whatever. I don't really care."

He was handed a Slim Sword and he gave a small 'thank you'. I turned to the three of them, giving them a grim look that clearly said that this was nothing as simple as an RPG.

"Be careful out there, all right? Don't get killed."

They nodded at me, and I knew they understood. An arrow whizzed past me, and I charged back into the fray.

* * *

"So you've just been… traveling around with these guys."

"Yep. That's basically it."

Joe nodded from across the table at me; Dodds and Zac were seated on either side of him. Casey and Fil were on my left and right; Lyndis, Eliwood, and Hector sat on the third side of the table. All nine of us were incredibly weary from the fight, but there was triumph written in our features as well. The spoiled brat who had been after the wild pegasus had been dealt with—ironically by our three sister Falcoknights. She was currently tied to a tree in the middle of the forest.

Now, in the aftermath, we were trying to figure out what to do with my three guy buddies. The rain had let up and it was late at night; we all wanted to go to sleep more than anything, but Eliwood had insisted that we get this matter straightened out.

"I understand if you guys want to go back home," I said quietly, but Dodds shook his head furiously and clung tighter to the Fire tome that he still had in his possession. "Hell no! You're not taking the pretty fire away from me!"

I blinked and Casey and Fil raised their eyebrows in tandem. Dodds usually got that reaction out of people, but I knew Casey and Fil wouldn't judge him. They were better than that.

Zac sighed and fixed his gaze on me—not for any underlying reason, mind you. He just had this habit of looking people in the eyes when he spoke to them. "I'll stick around for now. I've got nothing better to do."

"And I guess if those two are here, you'll need me around for some semblance of sanity," Joe said, crossing his arms proudly as he grinned. "I figure there's no harm in us tagging along for a while." He glanced at the three Lords, who had been left out of most of the conversation. "Unless you guys think we'd be dead weight or something."

Hector gave Joe an amiable grin. "Nah. You three are a little green, but you'll be veterans in no time."

"We can likely arrange for you to be trained by members of our party," Eliwood continued. "And you'll gain field experience since we seem to be running into a large amount of trouble lately." A worried expression flickered on his face for a brief second. "I hope it isn't a signal that something larger is on the horizon…"

_Wow. If that's not foreshadowing, I don't know what is._

The redheaded prince of Pherae shook his head and turned his attention back to the current matter. "In any case, is there anyone in particular you'd like to oversee your progress?"

Dodds tapped his chin. "Yeah… what was that green-haired girl's name?"

"Which green-haired girl?" Said Lyn, who was a green-head herself. "We have a lot of them around here."

"Well, she could do magic."

"Oh, you mean Nino," I piped up. "She's the one who gave you the Fire tome, right?"

"And I'll treasure it all my life!" Dodds exclaimed, hugging the Fire tome closer to his slight chest. "Okay," Lyndis began, a not of good-natured teasing in her voice and her smile. "But you'd better watch out for Jaffar. Nino's like a daughter to him, so he's pretty protective of her."

Zac leaned forward, suddenly eager. "Jaffar? Is that the guy who, like, completely owned anybody who came within ten feet of him?"

"Knowing Jaffar, probably."

"Yeah, I totally call that guy as my mentor."

I giggled and even Casey and Fil gave little laughs. I knew they weren't used to seeing Zac this way; he had always been the quiet, brooding guy at school. Even though he was a year younger than us, most of the population of the school knew him by reputation. I grinned inwardly; hopefully now my two fellow Fistfighters would get to see the real Zac. And for that matter, the real Dodds. Joe was really the only one in our group who could pass for 'normal'.

Lyndis nodded at Joe. "And you? Who'd you like?"

Fil spoke up before Joe could answer. "He wants… Farina," he said, pausing dramatically before Farina's name to add effect. Joe narrowed his eyes at Fil, somewhat suspicious. "How'd you know I was gonna say that?"

"Well, aside from the fact that you followed her around like a lost puppy for most of the fight, she confided in me that she thinks you've got potential… and that you're cute."

"Oh yeah?" Casey said, grinning conspiratorily as the tips of Joe's ears turned a bright pink. "How much did _that _cost you?"

"All the gold I had on me, and I have to shovel pegasus shit the next three times we stay at an inn, but it was worth it."

"You're shameless, dude."

"Yeah, well, we'll see where _you_ are the next time you need to blackmail someone."

Casey rolled his eyes and pushed away from the table, stretched his arms above his head as he stood. "Whatever. Now that that's settled, I'm gonna go catch some Z's."

He waved as he exited the tent with a 'see you in the morning', and Fil soon followed with his own 'good night, guys'. The Lords filed out next, and I exited the tent with the three boys.

"You guys can share my tent for now," I said as I stuck my pinky finger through one of Zac's newly-dried curls, one of our oldest rituals. Zac's hair is pretty much the Eighth Wonder of the Modern World—it's thick and dark and so curly it could have been taken off an angel in a Renaissance painting. Total strangers compliment him on it all the time.

"You don't have to share. I was gonna just sleep outside…"

I swatted Zac lightly on the shoulder. "I insist. I don't want you to get rained on or for a raccoon to come along and start ruffling around in your clothes or whatever." I brandished my index finger at Dodds and Joe. "That goes for you too."

They nodded in agreement, but Joe added a condition. "We'll sleep on the opposite side, then. To give you your space."

I decided to acquiesce and put my hands behind my head, my fingers interlaced. The stars above winked at me as I planned out the next day in my head.

"We'll have to get you guys some clothes, too… t-shirts and jeans kind of stand out here."

"Wait—you want to go _shopping_? Are you feeling quite all right?" Dodds said, darting in front of me and examining my face to see if I had suddenly turned green or if my pupils were whacked out. I chuckled and gently brushed past him, ducking into the little tent that I had set up earlier. "I'm fine, Dodds. Let's just get some sleep, all right, guys?"

There was agreement all around, and the boys took a few moments to get situated on their side of the tent. I tossed them a blanket I'd been hauling around; I went into a fit of giggles as they almost got into a brawl trying to distribute the blanket evenly. Finally, they reached a comfortable formation, and I snuffed out the candle that had been filling the tent with a gentle, flickering light. I yawned and fell asleep almost instantly, the utter dark not frightening me in the least. Not when I had my friends with me.

* * *

Yes, Fireball Jack--I know 'it' didn't happen. Next chapter, I promise.

Please review, yo. Oh, and a cookie to whoever can tell me where I got the names for the various animals.


	4. The Third Trinity Chapter 4a

Well, I'm back again with another chapter. This is actually half of chapter four, since it was turning out to be way too friggen long if I left it in one part. That being said, with the exception of the first bit, this chapter's pretty light--comedy, crack, a little romance, some character development. It'll balance out the more serious chapter 4b, I think.

I'd also like to answer a question asked by one of my reviewers: why is this story rated M? Well, right now, it's for violence and language, and grisly imagery. (I love that word. Grizz-lee.) However... coughtherewillbelemonslateroncough. I should probably take this time to mention that I am a _girl_. Seeing as how most of my readers are guys, I just think you should know that you'll be reading citrus written by a chick. If that weirds you out, I'll put warnings before the lemons start and after they end.

And before you say anything, there will be NO yaoi. So don't freak out on me, mmmkay?

So, without further ado, I give you chapter 4a of Triple Entente.

-LE (lockheedelektra)

* * *

A little hand nudged at my shoulder, stirring me from my sleep. My eyes opened sleepily and I saw a boy of maybe four or five with a gentle face staring at me.

"Excuse me," he said in a small, appropriately high-pitched voice. "I lost my daddy. Can you help me find him?"

I nodded and stood, taking the little boy's hand. We were in a patch of prairie; the tall grasses brushed my legs as I walked with the boy. He pointed with his free hand to a lump on the ground and his face lit up. "Daddy! I found Daddy!"

He broke off from me and ran over to the lump, which was revealed to be a human, though most of him was covered in cloth. Eventually I reached the both of them; the boy was shaking his father, but no response came from the prone figure. I looked at the figure's mass of hair—the only physical feature I could really see—and saw how parts of it had clumped together and were darkened with dried blood.

A chill went through me. The kid's dad was dead.

"Daddy? Can you hear me?"

I bit my lip. Should I tell the kid? Honesty was the best policy… or should I let him live in innocence for a little longer? I could tell the kid his dad was sleeping, take him back to his home village and tell his mother. Then when he was old enough he could learn the truth. To be honest, I didn't want to admit to myself that we'd just come across a dead man.

"But you know that's the truth of it."

I blinked; the kid had spoken to me, but something in his voice was off. Tears were in his eyes, but he smiled widely. His eyes stared straight at me, not blinking at all. I stood and took a step away on instinct. The child still stared at me, his jack-o-lantern grin growing wider.

"After all, you were the one who killed him."

I gasped and tried to run, but the ground wouldn't let me move. I was forced to watch as the corpse's head lifted off the ground of its own will. The face that was revealed was half-rotted away, the skull crushed in on one side. Blood still oozed from the wound, gray matter trailed over waxy skin. Its left eye had been picked out by birds, and only the socket remained, a gaping hole into Hell.

The corpse grinned like a mad jester, the smile too wide for its face. The empty eye socket fixed on me and the smell of decay filled my nose. I felt cold hands, with fingers stripped of their flesh until they were white bone, clawing at my clothes and limbs, but I couldn't look away from the soulless black abyss. Death waited for me in that empty gaze, waited to bring down on me what I'd wrought on so many men.

The corpse laughed. The sky split open.

I woke.

* * *

I jackknifed into a sitting position, my stomach lurching. My hand clapped over my mouth and I scrambled out of the tent and into the forest that surrounded us. I collapsed onto my knees and felt my body heave; my throat clenched and there was a bitter taste on my tongue as my dinner was purged from my stomach.

Suddenly there was a warm hand on my back, and someone gathered back my hair, but my brain shoved the sensory input aside. _Cough. Hack._ It was too busy trying in vain to vomit up the images of my dream along with the stew. Another shudder racked my form, but all that came up this time was gall.

My eyes burned with tears. I had killed people without a second thought—people that had families and lives. For the third time my body tried to expel any food I'd taken in, but only a desperate sob escaped.

_Murderer…_

The hand stroked my back, but I only saw the face of the little boy, grinning through his tears.

_Murderer!_

I must have been crying; a smooth voice echoed in my ears, but the words barely reached me. "It's all right; it's all right… let's get you cleaned up, okay?"

Weakness prevailed in my muscles; I felt the strong, warm hands half-pull, half-carry me over the ground until I was set down next to a river. I blinked and dipped my hands into the water. It was ice cold and helped to bring me back from my gloom a little. Splashing the water over my face, I washed away the remnants of vomit and spit until I felt clean again. (I really didn't, but at least there wasn't a chunk of carrot on my chin.)

The hand stroked my back gently, and now I had the coherence to look for its owner. I looked to my left and followed the lines of a lean arm over broad shoulders and up a graceful yet powerful neck. Glittering emerald eyes smiled gently at me as moonlight dappled green hair with silver.

"Heath?"

The Wyvern Lord let out a sigh of relief and let his hand fall. He looked at me for a few more moments, then drew up his knees to his chest and crossed his arms atop them. His vibrant eyes gazed into the babbling water. "You had a nightmare, didn't you? The first one is always the hardest."

I looked at the river as well, my mind plagued with guilt. I wasn't about to start puking again, now that I'd gotten over the initial shock, but I felt sluggish and heavy with depression. "Do they go away after a while?" I asked hesitantly.

There was a pause, and Heath's voice sounded hollow and defeated when he spoke. "No," he said. "No, they don't, and they're never easy to deal with."

My gaze turned downward. "Oh."

His warm hand was at my back again, offering some comfort. "It's true that we've killed people—but they were ready to kill us. They would have just gone on to kill more people. As harsh as it sounds, we had no choice."

I curled up, wrapping my arms around my knees. "I know. I know…"

Heath shuffled closer, and I let him wrap his arm around my shoulder. Just this once, I wanted to lean on someone. My eyelids drifted downwards; the song of the cicadas and Heath's warmth sank me into a mercifully dreamless sleep.

* * *

"Wake-y, wake-y, eggs and bake-y!"

I let out a snarl and rolled onto my back, throwing my arm over my eyes to block the intruding sunlight. Joe's baritone sounded far too cheery for my current mood. Needless to say, I'm not a morning person.

My pupils adjusted to the light and my vision was filled with the white canvas flaps of our tent. Colors seemed painfully bright when I compared them to my memories from last night.

_Huh… Heath must've brought me back to camp…_

The front flap of the tent was pulled back and a burst of sunshine invaded the tent. I squinted against it but sat up, glimpsing a fuzzy-haired Falcoknight in the doorway. Joe grinned and stooped into the tent, his royal blue armor clanking faintly. Underneath he wore a simple white shirt and brown pants, and he held some breakfast in his hands, which were adorned in fingerless brown gloves. His black boots had rapidly become something of an inside joke—they went up to the middle of his thighs, a girly length that looked hysterical on someone as un-girly as Joe.

He shoved a shish kebob of meat at me and I took it, still blinking sleep from my eyes. A hard-boiled egg was placed in my other hand.

"G'morning," Joe said, plopping down next to me and biting into his own stick o' meat. Joe had swiftly adjusted to military life, having once had the boyhood dream of joining the Air Force (which, ironically, he abandoned in favor of becoming a priest). I felt a little bad that he couldn't do that now that he was in this realm, but since he was a Falcoknight, he _was_ in the Air Force… in a way…

"Ugghnbargh…"

_Ah. That would be Zac._

He flopped up, licking the roof of his mouth. Zac was increasingly dog-like when he was sleepy. He scratched his dark brown curls, which had been matted down and tangled overnight. "I smell meat…"

Joe jerked his thumb outside. "They're cookin' it out there. Be careful, 'cause I almost burned myself trying to grab these."

Zac nodded and stumbled up, accidentally trodding on Dodds's leg. "Uhfta!"

"Oh, sorry!" Zac knelt down and lifted up Dodds, who was just waking up himself. The skinny Mage rubbed his eyes, straightening his sky-blue cloak with his free hand. "S'no problem…" I absently noticed that Dodds was filling out his white shirt more than he had before—hauling all those magic tomes around had gifted him with some muscle. _Good for him._

Dodds brushed off his steel-gray pants and re-laced his knee-high black boots before following Zac. The fledgling Assassin's wine-colored cloak fluttered behind him, revealing his cream pants and dark green vest for a brief moment. The two disappeared from the tent, leaving me and Joe to sit among the canvas.

I bit into my meat finally, taking in the smoky flavor. Unidentifiable Forest Creature… mm-mm, good!

The meat was finished off quickly, and I bit into the hard-boiled egg viciously, not having realized how hungry I was. Joe chuckled lightly, then took another bite of his meat kabob.

"So…" he began casually, "Where did you go with Heath last night?"

I ceased chowing down on the egg mid-bite; taking a brief second to think about whether to tell the truth or not, I finished the bite and swallowed. "I had a nightmare. Really bad one."

"How bad?"

"Bad enough to make me hurl."

"Hey! I'm trying to eat here!"

"You asked."

There was a pause while Joe swallowed a chunk of meat. "And?" he pressed. I shrugged, avoiding meeting his eyes.

"Heath was out there when I… yeah. He held my hair back and just kind of… comforted me, you know?"

I glanced at Joe and faltered when I saw the stern look he was giving me. His aquamarine eyes seemed to be trying to drill holes into my brain. It seemed like he was seriously upset with me, like I had done something last night that hurt him or Zac or Dodds. An apology was ready on my tongue, but he spoke before I could:

"Did you have sex with him?"

I was so unprepared for _that_ one that I had absolutely no clue what to say. Then, it came to me: laugh your ass off. And so I did.

I fell backwards onto the ground, clenching my stomach for much happier reasons than I had last night. Here I was, so concerned that I'd somehow hurt my homeboy's feelings, and he'd just thought that I'd had sex!

"It's not funny!"

"Yes—yes, it is," I choked out through my laughter. Eventually it died down, though my stomach was considerably sorer than it had been two minutes ago. I sat back up, a smile on my face. Joe still had the same dead serious expression, which almost got me laughing again, but I suppressed it.

"Well, did you?"

"No, dude. I'm not so stupid and weak as to sleep with him over a nightmare. He just sat with me and gave me some words of wisdom."

"All right. Just… be careful, is all I'm sayin'."

I rolled my eyes and ran my hand over the ends of his hair. Typical Joe. Always looking out for us kids.

* * *

We started our daily march with the good news that we'd reach the town of Moytura by around noon. The promise of something to eat besides stew as well as a soft bed to sleep on spurred me forward. It wasn't that I abhorred camping out, but I was definitely looking forward to some civilization.

Fil's cry of frustration halted me dead in my tracks. I looked back at the Boxer, who was banging his head against Merlinus's cart. I raised my eyebrow, not used to seeing the calm and collected Fil go bonkers like this.

"Um… are you okay, man?"

"…I have a song stuck in my head."

I giggled at that; Casey came up beside him, grabbed Fil by his mahogany hair, and forced him to stop banging his head against the cart. "Well, what song is it?"

"You don't wanna know."

A voice came from the top of the cart; it was Matthew, who was again chilling atop the wooden structure. "Your damn banging woke me up. You'd better spit it out."

Fil sighed. "Okay, but you asked for it." He sucked in a breath, taking an unnecessarily long time before yelling out:

"IT'S PEANUT BUTTER JELLY TIME!!"

Dodds zoomed up immediately, having sensed the crack. "PEANUT BUTTER JELLY TIME!!"

I shrugged. Might as well join in. "PEANUT BUTTER JELLY TIME!!"

Zac's eye-roll was practically audible, but we continued anyway. I was surprised that Fil even _knew _'Peanut Butter Jelly Time', but hey, I wasn't complaining. Sometimes you need a little dose of ridiculous-ness in your life.

Suddenly a different rhythm broke into the one we'd started; Fil stopped in the middle of a 'break it down' and looked quizzically at the pocket he'd sewn into his pants. He pulled out his cell phone, which was ringing loudly, yelling out a static-ridden version of 'Down with the Sickness' by Disturbed. The rest of us stopped and stared at the black flip phone in awe; none of our phones had been able to work since we entered this world. But now, someone was calling Fil.

"Who is it?" Dodds asked.

"I dunno," Fil replied, peering at the number on the caller ID. "I don't know this number… this isn't even my ordinary ringtone."

"You don't like Disturbed?" Zac said, peering over Fil's shoulder to look at the number. The brown-haired Boxer was about to respond, but Zac's eyes widened and he snatched the phone from Fil's grasp before he could say anything.

Zac flipped open the phone and pressed it to his ear in on smooth motion. "Stephanie?"

"_ZAC!!_"

My curly-haired homeboy thrust the phone away from his sensitive ears, the volume of Stephanie's shout having temporarily deafened him. He slowly drew it back to his ear, as Stephanie had begun talking at a normal volume.

"I'm fine… no, really… where am I? Uh… that's kind of hard to explain… I'm with Maddie and Dodds and Joe… yeah, we found her… Yes, Stephanie, we're fine. Trust me, we're all okay… Yes? You want to tell me something? Go ahead."

There was a long pause as Zac listened to what Stephanie had to say; suddenly his whole body went rigid and his bottom left eyelid twitched. Then, he fell straight backwards, having fainted dead away.

I rushed over and hauled him upwards, taking the phone from his slack hand. "Stephanie? You still there?"

"_MADDIE-CHAN!!_"

Ouch. Should've expected that.

"Yes… it is I…"

"_Thank God! I was so worried about all of you! Are you guys okay over there?_"

Didn't Zac already answer that twice? "Yeah, we're all doing okay. Zac just fainted, though. What did you tell him?"

"_Well... The thing is…_"

I had to keep from fainting myself when Stephanie told me the news. "Wow. Um. Yay?"

"_Yes, yay!_"

I chuckled, then remembered something that had been on my mind for a long time. The initial shock of Stephanie's news had made me forget—actually, I was _still_ trying to wrap my mind around this new development. "Oh, Stephanie? Could you call my mom and dad and let them know I'm all right?"

"_Sure, I'll get right on it—_" There was a muffled noise on the other line. "_I'm coming! Sorry, Maddie, I've gotta go. Say hello to everyone for me, all right?_"

"Yeah. Sure. Bye, Stephanie." I flipped the phone shut, giving a low, incredulous laugh. Zac, you dog. Now we _really_ needed to find a way to get back home.

"Guys—Stephanie's pregnant. With twins."

Jaws dropped to the floor and the group gave a collective gasp; Joe's Pegasus (who we had named Aed) damn near crashed into the ground, but he managed to right it in time. "Did I hear that correctly?" He said, letting Aed walk beside us. "Did you just say that Stephanie's pregnant, thus making Zac a father?"

The blonde Falcoknight pointed at Zac, who was slowly coming to, his head resting on my shoulder. "Shit…" he groaned. "The wedding isn't until January…"

I raised my eyebrows. Zac was going to get married to Stephanie? Well, good for the both of them. They'd been through too much shit to _not_ get married and be together, dammit!

Fil was the first to come out of his stupor; he laughed and clapped Zac on the back. "Nice going, man. At least it's not with some random chick you don't even know."

Zac groaned miserably in response.

* * *

We reached Moytura at around noon, when the sun was beating down upon our necks. The town, which should have been bustling at this hour, was dead quiet. Not a soul was to be seen.

Our party stopped in the center of the main street; I had time to register that the town looked like something out of the old west, with rickety buildings and sidewalks of wood. Eliwood looked around from atop his horse, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"I don't like this…" Hector muttered, his hand resting on his Wolf Beil. Lyn's Mani Katti _clicked_ open with a push of her thumb, and Kent and Sain moved closer to her, ready to back her up if she attacked. The whole party tensed, waiting for the smallest signal to spring into action; above our head, our flying units circled like birds of prey.

Suddenly: "Hold!"

On Eliwood's stern command, we all relaxed, taking note of the middle-aged woman who had emerged from one of the houses. She walked towards us, masking her anxiety with a confident stride. Her jet-black hair had streaks of silver running through it; her violet eyes glinted with determination and intelligence. Her clothes were simple: a red apron over a white cotton dress. She could've been somebody's mother.

"Please don't be alarmed," she said, her voice even. "I understand you may be very confused right now. If you come inside, I'll explain everything."

The saloon she led us into was humble and small, and fit with the 'Wild West' atmosphere I'd seen earlier. A bar was backed up against the left wall, and a staircase led up to a second floor that seemed to be an inn. A catwalk went around the perimeter of the second floor and served as a hallway to the different rooms. The saloon looked like it could hold about thirty people, but what must have been twice that number was crammed into the little establishment.

Faces turned to look at us from everywhere; they glanced at us from the tables, peered at us from the stairs, gazed at us from the catwalk. What was more, I noticed that most of the faces were those of women. The male occupants were either little boys or old men; only two or three middle-aged men were in the room, and there were absolutely no teens or young adults. _Curiouser and curiouser…_

Since there was no way our whole force would fit into the saloon, a group of six—including the three Lords—remained inside while the rest of us stayed outside to await our orders. Hours passed, the sun traveled along the sky, and still the Lords didn't emerge. Sain in particular seemed dismayed by this, moping from his position on the front steps. His lower lip stuck out as he held his chin in his hands, resting his elbows on his knees. He looked like a little kid.

"Man… all those pretty girls in there… but I don't wanna piss off Lady Lyn…"

I chuckled as I heard his ramblings and sat beside the lecherous Cavalier, patting him on the back. For some reason, Sain never made a habit of hitting on me—maybe I was too tomboyish for him. Actually, he almost seemed afraid of me, like some punishment would come down from the heavens if he spoke to me for too long. "Don't worry, man," I said. "She'll be out soon, I'm sure."

Sain glanced at me with chestnut-colored eyes, then looked at his feet like he was embarrassed. "Hey, Madeleine… d'you think you could… I dunno… pop your head in there and ask when she'll be out?"

His face was turning a light shade of pink. I giggled at his behavior and stood once more. The poor fool would probably never realize it, but he was head over heels in love with Lyn. "Sure, no problem."

I spun on my heel and strode through the swinging half-doors of the saloon, feeling like a gunslinger for all I was worth. People in the immediate vicinity glanced at me when I entered, but then they went back to their conversations once they identified me. I wormed through the crowd until I reached the center table where Lyn and the other Lords were conferring with the woman from earlier.

The green-haired Blade Lord looked behind her as I approached. Her brow furrowed minutely when she saw me. "Is something the matter?"

"No, no. Sain was just wondering when you'd be out."

Lyn's worried expression evaporated into a smile. "We'll just be a few more minutes."

I nodded and began to make my exit, but a hand rested on my shoulder. Stiffening, I rotated my head to see none other than Matthew, who had an uncharacteristically stern expression on his face. "Madeleine… that Myrmidon guy in the corner's been staring at you ever since you walked in." His light brown eyes flickered to said corner, indicating I should look over there.

I nodded and turned to face him, pretending to talk to him while glancing at the corner. _Dammit, I hate being nearsighted._ I squinted as inconspicuously as I could and gained more details. Two others were sitting at the table with the Myrmidon: a female Cleric with long jet-black hair, wearing a silver Cleric's dress and silver elbow-length gloves with a blue scarf around her neck. The other was a petite Paladin who had her coffee-colored brown hair pulled into a ponytail. Her turquoise armor fit neatly over her white shirt and black pants.

The Myrmidon was still looking in our direction, chocolate-brown hair falling in layers so that his right eye was obscured. Suddenly, his small, oddly feminine mouth split into an all-too-familiar grin, and I fought the urge to burst into convulsive laughter. The result must have looked like I tried to contain an internal explosion, because Matthew raised an eyebrow at me. "Are you quite all right?"

"That's… that's no guy… that's _Maria_!"

Maria Von Dreele, my fellow tomboy and kendo master supreme. She had joined a kendo dojo about the same time I started karate—when we were six—and could identify a good-quality sword from a mile away. Now that I thought about it, it wasn't all that surprising that Matthew had taken her for a guy. Maria's face was feminine enough, but her slender figure combined with her baggy clothes meant a lot of people thought she was a boy at first. She'd learned not to take it personally and never reacted violently when the preps bad-mouthed her. Maria preferred to mess with their heads, pretending to curse them with her 'Satanic witchcraft' (another nasty rumor that started when they found out Maria was a Wiccan).

Matthew's eyes were the size of dinner plates. He whipped his head towards Maria and looked over her again. "I thought he looked effeminate, but… she hasn't got…"

"She binds her breasts. If you had them you'd do the same."

And with that, I strolled over to the table, identifying the other two people as they came within my range of focus.

The Paladin had to be Jordan Craft, who, despite her short stature, had enough attitude to knock out a bull elephant; she was a little more girly than Maria and I, and liked to show off her curves more. She kept it tasteful, though, and dished out stinging insults if anyone crossed her. Usually she was upbeat and outgoing, a foil to Maria's somewhat antisocial behavior. Jordan could bounce between different cliques like it was no problem at all, and if someone didn't like her—well, that was their problem. Jordan did keep some of her passions secret from the public, like anime and horses, but she could talk about them for hours in private.

The Cleric was Angelique Vences, or Angel, as she liked to be called. She was half-Mexican and spoke fluent Spanish; she was also one of the toughest people I'd ever met, emotionally and physically. Even when she was going through hard times, she never let on and put on a smile so we wouldn't feel down. Angel was also the girliest of the four of us, and put a lot of care into her appearance. She wasn't vain by any means; she just took pride in looking her best. On the other hand, she also played a mean game of basketball and was not afraid in the slightest to tell people when they were being assholes.

"Well, well, didn't expect to see you here," Maria said, cool as a cucumber, when I arrived at the table. I nodded at her and took in her outfit, which wasn't the norm for Myrmidons. She was wearing a red gi and black hakama, and I wouldn't be surprised if she had on tabi and geta as well. "Kickin' it old-school, huh?"

"Yep, I had it custom-made. Pretty neat, huh?"

"Yeah, that's great, really," Jordan said, holding up her hand to silence Maria. The two had been best friends since grade school, so I knew there were no negative emotions behind her gesture. She turned to me: "Ohmygodyou'reokayIcan'tfriggingbelieveit! It'sbeensolongweweresoworriedaboutyou! IwannahugyoubutIcan'tbecauseitwouldlookweird!"

I sweatdropped and laughed nervously, not having understood a single word she'd said. "Slow down, Jordan!" Angel said, laughing at the petite girl's legendary motormouth. Whenever Jordan was agitated or excited, she spoke so quickly she put platinum-selling rappers to shame. Jordan blushed slightly and patted the back of her head. "Sorry… I meant: it's good to see that you're all right."

I nodded and smiled, relieved to see some familiar female presences. My tomboy status meant I was comfortable enough around guys, but even I had been starting to drown in the testosterone. "It's fine. I'm actually pretty glad to see you guys, too. Now, before you say anything, did you guys go to Six Flags and meet up with a little old lady who sent you here?"

Jordan blinked. "Yeah, about a week ago. How'd you know?"

"Well, that is how _we_ got here. I'm gonna have to talk to her when I get the chance." I shrugged and pulled up a chair across from Maria, with Jordan at my left and Angel at my right. "But that doesn't really matter right now. Are you guys working for a local lord or something?"

Maria shook her head. "Not exactly…" She trailed off and cocked her head, thinking of how to word her situation. "The town kind of hired us to investigate this… restaurant or something…"

"I have a sneaking suspicion that it's a strip club, but," Jordan shrugged, a grin on her face. "That's just me."

Angel rolled her eyes, but a smile played on her lips. "Whatever it is," she said to me, "anybody who goes there doesn't come back. I guess the first disappearance happened on their opening night, when most of the teenage boys and single men went to check it out. No one ever heard from them again."

My brow furrowed and I leaned in closer. "What about after that?"

"A search party went into the place the next night. Same thing. It was like they'd vanished." Angel leaned back in her chair and stared at the table with her dark, almost-black eyes. "The people got scared and moved in here the day before yesterday. We'd already been here for about three days, so we moved with them." She took a deep breath. "We volunteered to go investigate for tonight." Angel glanced up at me, as though she was scared I'd be angry at her.

I wasn't angry at them, per se, but I was relieved that they'd dodged a bullet, now that we were here at least. I didn't like the idea of three of my closest girl friends heading into danger without backup. "Okay, okay. I get it. We'll probably be going with you, just so you know."

Maria cocked her head again, this time to the left so her bangs covered up one honey-brown eye. "'We'? You mean you and the others from school, right?"

I sniggered. "Not quite…"

* * *

"Holy crap!"

Jordan's exclamation drew the attention of everyone outside; most of them only briefly looked up from cleaning their weapons/studying their tomes/groping their wife, then resumed their business. Sain, however, popped up immediately and faced us, his energy restored and anticipation in his warm brown eyes.

"Well? Will she be out soon?"

"Just a couple more minutes, Sain, keep your pants on."

He nodded, then took notice of my two more feminine friends. One look at Angel's prominent curves and Jordan's petite figure and he'd gone into full-out Casanova mode. The Cavalier produced a rose from thin air and held it out for Angel, placing a hand over his heart emphatically.

"Such beauty appears before me! A voluptuous, gentle goddess, sent from the heavens to heal my aching heart!"

"Um… do I know you?"

Sain gave no answer, instead shifting so that he was at Jordan's side, offering the rose to her. "And here, what a perfect example of youth's exuberance! A fair maiden, strong yet as delicate as a flower! Be still, my beating heart!"

The hiss of Maria's katana being unsheathed cut through Sain's speech like a hot knife through butter. In a flash, the tip of her blade was at his throat and the rose blossom had been separated from its stem. "Your heart's gonna be _completely_ still if you don't leave my friends alone," she said, leveling a death-glare at the Cavalier.

Poor Sain looked like a scared puppy. I decided to intervene and lowered Maria's blade, taking care not to cut myself on it. (Yes, she kept it that sharp.) "Calm down, Maria. He doesn't mean any harm."

"Hn." She sheathed her katana reluctantly and turned away from Sain, crossing her arms. "Whatever."

"MARIA-CHAN!!"

The Myrmidon didn't miss a beat, stepping neatly to the side to avoid Dodds's Flying Glomp of Doom. The Mage promptly crashed into the wall of the saloon face-first and sunk to the ground, twitching slightly. "Hello to you too, Dodds."

"Sweet move," Matthew commented as he exited the saloon, having observed Maria's dodging skillz. She quirked a smile at him and stuck out her hand. "Thanks. I'm Maria, by the way."

Matthew gave her hand a firm shake. "So I've heard. I'm Matthew. Listen, I'm sorry I thought you were a guy…"

"It's fine, it's fine," she assured him, waving her hand dismissively. "I almost prefer for people to think I'm a guy. Then I know people will take me seriously, at least."

Maria laughed a little and Matthew raised an eyebrow, a small smirk on his face. "What makes you think people won't take you seriously if you're a girl?"

She shrugged. "I dunno. That's just always been my experience. Besides, I don't like girly clothing. You can't fight in it."

"Excellent. Then you'll be all set for when we go a-trouncing," Hector's strong voice broke through as he exited the saloon. The Great Lord took in the sight of Angel, Maria, and Jordan and grinned. "I'm guessing you three are the group that we'll be fighting with." His black eyes then glanced out at the darkening sky and he brushed past our group, talking as he went. "It looks like we're kind of pressed for time. Mind if we do the introductions on the way?"

* * *

Next time: A posessed jukebox, a demonic attack, and a glimpse of the ever-elusive PLOT.

Tune in for the next episode of Triple Entente: Is that a Vulnerary or are you Just Happy to See Me?


	5. Vulnerary plus Pants equals T3H FUNNY!

LE DISCLAIMER: I do not own the game, "Fire Emblem: Rekka no Ken".

And so, after a long wait with no violence whatsoever, chapter 4(b!) arrives! Yes, it's right there in your hot little hands... er, monitor. The jokes in this one include poking fun at how guys stash everything in their pants. Not their pockets. Their pants. You know you've done it.

Oh, and by the way; if you're looking for some fun behind-the-scenes stuff and to get some insight on things I might not have been able to work into the story, check out Triple Entente Chronicles, authored by my good friend, Fireball Jack.(FBJ: Yay! Recognition!) I approve it and check it over myself, so you know that whatever's in there is authentic(FBJ -ly funny!).

Dammit, Jack, stop talking over me!(FBJ: How about no?)

Well, anyways, without further ado, I give you chapter four (b!) of Triple Entente.(FBJ: Teh Funny!)

-LE

* * *

"This was the most creative name they could come up with?" 

"Well, it doesn't have to be creative. It's a strip club."

"Okay, first, we don't know that. Second, 'The Black Saddle'? I mean, that's just _pathetic_."

Jordan looked down at me with her deep brown eyes from atop her buckskin horse, Fidelma (a gift from the townspeople—even though the mare was fully trained, she refused to cooperate with anyone except Jordan). "You're still in doubt that this is a strip club?"

"That's not the point…" I grumbled, crossing my arms. Actually, I had already concluded that The Black Saddle was a strip club—or a gentlemen's club, something along those lines—so I was getting cranky at the thought of going in there. Watching greasy men leer at beautiful young girls was not one of my favorite pastimes.

"Listen up, everyone!"

Once again, Eliwood's shout drew my attention to him. "We can't send too many of us inside. It might make them suspicious. Hector, Lyn, and I will enter; so will Maria, Angel, and Jordan. No more than six others should go with us. If you wish to enter, please step forward now."

As much as I hated the idea of a strip club, I was still damn curious as to what they looked like inside. I mean, I'd seen them in movies and crap, but we all know how Hollywood exaggerates stuff. Besides, Fil had stepped forward, and the snarky grin on his face meant that _someone_ would have to keep him in line.

Reluctantly, I shuffled forward, my arms crossed. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Sain urge his horse forward, but Kent snagged him by his hair again and pulled him back. I heard the red-head say something about "not wanting to make the wrong impression on Lady Lyndis", and Sain quieted instantly.

Looking around, I saw a couple of surprise volunteers. Nino had stepped forward, as well as Dodds. The stoic Raven stood out, glaring into space as though daring someone to crack a joke. I saw Lucius take a hesitant step forward, his fingers drumming nervously on his Divine tome. Eliwood nodded decisively and swung his leg over his horse, dismounting fluidly.

I saw a head of sky-blue hair break from the ranks; a gauzy shawl trailed after her as Ninian ran towards Eliwood. The girl seemed determined to catch him before he gave the order to move out, and concern flashed over Eliwood's face as she approached.

"Lord Eliwood—please let me go with you. I… I don't like the sense I get from this place."

Eliwood glanced at our party, and then looked back to Ninian. He spoke softly, but I managed to catch what he was saying. "It's too dangerous. You should stay out here. You know that everyone will protect you." He rested his hand on her shoulder, and I didn't miss how his thumb stroked over her skin.

Ninian shook her head, blue hair whipping. "No, my lord. Please, I want to help any way I can. I don't want you going in there without…" The Dancer trailed off and averted her eyes; Eliwood's expression softened and he smiled reassuringly.

"All right. But make sure you stay close to me or Hector or Lyn."

Ninian looked back up at his consent, her ruby eyes shining. She nodded in thanks and Eliwood turned to the rest of us.

"Let's move out!"

* * *

I will say this: Hector has major style. However, that is not the most helpful thing in the world when you're trying to be subtle and inconspicuous. The whole purpose of limiting our number was to avoid standing out, but such a thing was flat-out impossible with someone like Hector. 

After kicking open the doors (nearly unhinging them with the force), the blue-haired Great Lord proceeded to strut on over to the bar, waving and grinning at anyone who happened to look at him. He actually even spoke to some complete strangers on the way, smacking them on the back in a chummy fashion. In short, he made certain that the attention of every patron and employee of The Black Saddle was drawn to our group—exactly what we did not want.

Eliwood covered his face with his hand in shame and Lyn's eyebrow twitched. "That flashy idiot…"

"He walks in a room and botches the whole mission…" Fil mused. "Gotta admit, that takes skill."

"That's one word for it," I muttered.

"It doesn't matter," Raven said, shouldering past us. "Just act normal and everyone will assume we're just regular people with an idiot friend." And with that, he found an empty table and sat down, much stealthier than Hector. Lucius followed after him, taking his seat gracefully.

Nino turned to Dodds, mischief glinting in her blue eyes. "Shall we, my apprentice?" She said, her tone overly formal.

"Yes, I believe we shall," Dodds continued, picking up the mock formality and marching off with Nino to the table with Raven and Lucius. Fil announced that he was getting a drink and headed to the bar. Lyn and Eliwood also made for the bar to keep Hector from screwing up the mission even further, Ninian following close behind. I was left with the girls.

"See. I told you it was a strip club."

"Actually, I think this looks more like a Hooters-type place."

Angel, Jordan, and I quirked our eyebrows at Maria, who had made the comparison. She held up her hands innocently. "What? I've got an older brother! It's inevitable that I find out what a Hooters looks like!"

"Yeah, that's what they all say," Jordan joked. "Come on, let's sit down already."

We found a table and took our seats, making sure we could keep an eye on the other two groups. I looked about the place, trying to gauge if anyone would be threat or if I could use anything as a weapon if I had to. The bottles behind the bar would do well… I could even beat someone up with a chair if they weren't too speedy.

Then again, most of the people here didn't look that tough. Sure, the bartender and the bouncers had a gruff appearance to them, but the patrons looked like the medieval equivalent of macho, white-trash, wannabe punks. The waitresses appeared to be your stereotypical Hooters-type girls; they had nice bodies, so they assumed they could glide through life without making use of their brains. I doubted they would do more than shriek and act useless if trouble started. But still… something here had made those men disappear. I couldn't let my guard down.

It was oddly muggy inside the place, so I pulled my hair back into a low ponytail. At the back wall was a stage, with a rectangle at the center that jutted out amidst the tables. There were columns in the back corners, with stone snakes winding around them. In addition, a massive viper's head made of granite emerged from the back wall, its lower jaw resting on the stage. A forked tongue lolled from its mouth, its maw open wide enough so that Hector could have fit inside it. While it was an interesting bit of architecture, it didn't exactly fit with the premise that this was your average, everyday Medieval Hooters. It even looked decidedly sinister.

Something was definitely rotten in the town of Moytura.

* * *

About half an hour passed and still there was no sign of any suspicious behavior. Fil had gotten slightly drunk, but aside from him we were all becoming restless and, frankly, quite bored. 

So it was rather convenient that, at that moment, Lucius accidentally cut himself with his knife. He gave a small sound, more out of annoyance than pain, but it attracted the attention of our contingent. The cut was shallow, but it had nicked the vein that went across the back of his left hand, and light scarlet blood was slowly dripping from the wound.

"You all right?" Raven asked.

"Yes, I'll be fine."

A waitress passing by their table noticed the effeminate Monk's plight; she stopped dead in her tracks and just stared at Lucius's bleeding hand, mouth slightly open. After a few long moments, she spoke, her voice hushed.

"Can I help you with that wound?"

Lucius glanced up at her, noted the somewhat glazed look in her eyes, and decided against having the creepy waitress anywhere near his bleeding hand. "No, you don't have to; I can take care of it myself," he said, attempting to remain polite.

Lucius looked away from her, signaling that the conversation was over, but she persisted. "Really, I think you need some… assistance." Her tongue crept out of her mouth and she licked her lips, keeping her gaze focused on the steady trickle of Lucius's blood.

"I appreciate it, Miss, but I really don't need your help," Lucius said more forcefully. He turned his back to the waitress entirely and faced the other people at his table, an odd maneuver for the courteous Monk. Even without my glasses I could register the panicky look on Lucius's face; he had even gone somewhat pale. That explained his uncharacteristic behavior. People act differently when freaked out, and it was apparent that Lucius was getting a vibe from the waitress that the rest of us weren't.

I glanced over at Ninian, who was quivering slightly. She had the ability to detect evil, didn't she? This place, even though it seemed tame, was terrifying her. I pushed my chair farther away from the table as silently as possible.

"I don't believe you understand…"

Looking back to Lucius's table, I saw that the waitress was still there, and was slowly leaning towards the blonde Monk. Lucius still had his back to her, but Nino and Dodds had rested their hands on their spell books, and I saw Raven push his Silver Blade about an inch out of its sheath.

"You don't have a choice!"

Suddenly the waitress's jaw opened impossibly wide; inside a millisecond, her features contorted, scales covering her face, fangs protruding from her mouth, her eyes turning cold and slitted. Then she was closing her mouth around Lucien's neck…

But before she could even break the skin, Raven had drawn his sword and skewered her right through the head. Lucius fell out of his chair and scrambled up, trying to avoid the spray of blood.

"Lucius, did she get you?" Eliwood said from off-camera; the Monk shook his head, clutching the Divine tome to his chest. Raven kicked the corpse off of his sword, and it fell to the floor, twitching slightly. I noticed that Angel was staring at the red-headed Hero with a shocked expression; I was just about to ask her is she was all right when she spoke up.

"That was so cool."

She turned to me, eyes bright. "Did you see that? He was quick as all hell! It was awesome!" Angel looked back at Raven with something like admiration. "I didn't notice before, but he's pretty hot, isn't he?"

"I… guess so…" I said, deciding to humor her.

"Hate to break up your girl talk," Maria began, sliding her katana from its sheath, "But I think we've got more important matters on our hands."

I looked around the Medieval Hooters to find that during our discussion, the employees had quietly transformed; formerly pretty faces had been altered into those of demons, previously attractive bodies had molded into perverse mockeries of the human form.

"Damn, they've been hit hard by the ugly stick…" I murmured. _How the hell did I miss __**that?**_

Meanwhile, the three Lords and the tipsy Fil had formed a guard around Ninian—who was still shaking but was trying to remain brave. Nino and Dodds were back-to-back, their tomes at the ready; Raven was standing before Lucius, ready for another attack. Angel was protected by Maria on her left, Jordan on her right, and me from behind. Jordan had her Iron Sword at the ready, with a Hand Axe strapped to her back, but her Steel Lance—the weapon she was best with—was outside with Fidelma.

We all held our positions for a few tension-laden moments; the quiet was broken when a demon lunged for one of the customers, and suddenly it was like some kind of leash had snapped. They flew at us, we flew at them; the smell of flesh being burned by magical Fire filled the air, blades whistled as they sped to their targets, and blood spattered damn near everywhere.

_Dammit! I just scrubbed the stains out of this fucking thing!_

I acted on my earlier thought and clobbered one of the demons with a chair; driving it down on his chest, I put a little more force into it than I intended and impaled him with one of the legs. His mouth opened and he let out an unearthly shriek, then crumbled into dust.

My eyes widened and I looked around to see if anyone else had gotten the same result. A few of the bodies had disintegrated, but not many—as I watched I saw the one who'd tried to attack Lucius rise again, the hole in her head hardly slowing her at all. Another one of them was straddling a man in a chair, but it didn't look as though she was simply trying to kill him. She was _eating _him. Drinking his blood.

So, not demons then. Vampires. And clearly not the sexy kind.

"NINIAN, GET DOWN!!"

I whirled around to see the beautiful Dancer duck down; Eliwood's blade shot over her head to pierce through a vampire that had been about to attack her. Ashes rained down, signifying he'd gotten the heart, and I refocused on the fight. I picked up a leg of a chair that had broken off, wishing that I had a crucifix or something on me…

Suddenly three nearby vamps exploded simultaneously; when their bodies crumbled away, Lucien could be seen through the dust cloud. He lifted his arm and there was a flash of light by his fingertips, and then two more vampires were no more. _Well, duh! Light magicholy, Maddie!_

The noise level seemed to drop drastically; there was one more unholy scream, silenced quickly by Maria, and then all was quiet again. Dodds, who had been torching vamps almost nonstop along with Nino, promptly collapsed onto a box-like structure up against the wall. However, as soon as he put his weight on it, the box came to life, neon tubing illuminating and tiny lightbulbs flashing. It made a couple 'dings' and Dodds scrambled off of it, frantically patting himself down like a spider had jumped from the machine into his clothes. A soft _whirr_ emitted from the machine, and a thin black disk was lifted up from within it; the disk was placed flat-side down and a needle drifted over to rest on the now-rotating disk. Silence for a few seconds, and then a synthesized beat began pumping from the machine.

"What the hell is _that_ thing?" Hector said, holding up his axe like the box was about to attack him.

"… It's a jukebox," Jordan said disbelievingly. I raised my eyebrows, feeling rather skeptical myself. But despite all logical reasoning that said there was _no_ way a jukebox could exist in the Middle Ages, one was sitting right before my eyes.

Not only that, it was playing Daft Punk.

The impossibility of it all was lost on Dodds, who had begun to groove to the infectious beat. "Harder! Better! Faster! Stronger!" He chanted, singing along with electronic voice. The boy had always been an avid Daft Punk fan.

Unfortunately, since we were all staring at the jukebox and Dodds was busy breaking it down, we failed to notice when one of the people we'd taken for dead lifted out of his chair. At least, that's how I assume it happened, because I didn't even notice he'd gotten up until I heard Fil smashing open a bottle on the edge of the bar.

That got my attention pretty quick.

The human-turned vampire lunged at Fil, who dodged out of the way, swaying slightly. "Oh man…" he moaned, face looking pale. For a second I thought he'd been bitten, but then I saw how he stumbled around and flailed unpredictably. He wasn't dying; he was just doing his own brand of the Drunken Fist.

_Stab._ Blood leaked from the hole Fil had put with the bottle through his enemy's chest, and soon the grayish body crumbled around the glass. Fil held his arm out for a few more seconds, then clapped a hand over his mouth. "I'm gonna be sick…" he choked out, then leaned over the bar and made good on his promise.

There was a brief pause where the mood lightened and I was almost tricked into fully relaxing; but then another cadaver lurched to life and the fight began anew. The second round was easier—we knew how to take care of our opponents now, and the Daft Punk still playing in the background only served to boost my energy. Even our units who didn't fight were empowered; Angel healed us so quickly we barely had time to notice we were injured, and Ninian expertly danced around any and all attacks aimed at her.

We'd already cycled through "Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger", "Da Funk", and "Robot Rock" when the last vampire disintegrated. "Aerodynamic" was just beginning as we all took a breather, the steady _bongs_ trying to slow down my rapid heartbeat. The last low bell sounded, and it seemed as though we were victorious.

It was then that Casey crashed through the nearest window, signaling the faster part of the song to begin. He landed on his back, but his legs still had momentum and ended up flung over his shoulders so that the whole bottom half of his torso arched into the air. It looked rather uncomfortable.

"Ouch… Oh, hey guys. We've got a bit of a situation outside…" The Brawler untangled his limbs and managed to stand up; he was just dusting himself off when the front door exploded.

I shielded my face against the blast instinctively, my ears ringing from the volume. My eyes cracked open, just in time to see a gray shape emerge from the dust and zoom right at me, bat-like wings unfolded—

Before I could do anything, an arrow pierced the creature's skull and threw it off course. Lyn notched a second arrow and hit its heart in one shot, killing it in midair. The smoke from the explosion began to clear, revealing the madness going on outside.

Vampires, scores of them, with ashen gray bodies and massive wings, were attacking our party.

"_More_ of them? Christ on a cross…" Jordan rolled her eyes, clearly exasperated with this whole 'fighting legions of the undead' business; she put two fingers to her lips and let out an ear-piercing whistle. Fidelma suddenly appeared from the scuffle, leaping over a log and charging towards our little group. Jordan mounted her fluidly without the horse slowing down at all, and the two were off into the fight. I followed them with my eyes for a moment, shrugged, then dashed into the melee.

* * *

Ten minutes later, it was getting hard to stay standing. The last vampire I'd fought had left me a parting gift as I had staked him: a long gash across my side, right at my waistline. It had missed my vitals, but the dark crimson blood meant the wound was deeper than I was comfortable with. Our healers were busy tending to people who had even worse wounds. And like an idiot, I hadn't packed a vulnerary. _Dammit._ I'd have to grab someone else's. 

Thanks to a burst of adrenaline, I back-fisted a vampire out of my way and headed for the nearest familiar person: Fil. He hardly ever used his vulneraries, anyway.

"Dude, you got a vulnerary?" I asked, stemming the flow of blood with my hand. He punched out a vampire before glancing at me and nodding. "Yeah, I've got one right here…"

And he pulled out the waist of his pants and began rummaging around inside.

"Uh, never mind." I'm not squeamish, but even _I_ didn't want to use something that shared space with Fil Jr. Next I went to Eliwood. Surely the noble young man could spare some potion.

"Eliwood, could I borrow a vulnerary?" The microscopic dirt on my hand rubbed off into the cut, stinging me. "Hold on, I think I've got one—" I cut him off as he, too, began searching around in his pants. "No, no, it's okay. Don't bother."

_Some_one, _any_one… I was bleeding out so much we could have re-painted the inside of the Medieval Hooters.

"Are you quite all right, Madeleine?"

I whirled around to face Canas and his glinting monocle. "Canas! D'you think you could spare a vulnerary?"

"Why, yes, just a minute…" He said in his proper English-accented voice, then promptly dug his hand into his pants to retrieve the vulnerary.

I groaned. "Not you, too…"

He didn't seem to notice. "Sorry, I must have used them all up. But maybe you would care for some tea?"

My eyes widened as Canas pulled a tea tray—vertically—from his pants, with cups and kettle attached. He held it out to me, smiling.

"Um… thanks, but… I'll take a rain check on that."

I stumbled away and felt myself growing dizzy. The world tilted and I almost fell over, but a strong arm wrapped around my shoulder. "You look like you need some help." The gentle yet masculine voice of Heath reached my ears, and I looked up.

"Hey… got a… vulnerary?"

"Yeah." The Wyvern Lord—_Oh, for the love of GOD!!_—reached into his pants and withdrew the vulnerary. He held it out and I stared at it for a few seconds. For some reason, it didn't feel so wrong with Heath.

"Fine. Only because it's you."

He cocked his head, but I had snatched up the vulnerary and was quaffing it down. My side tingled and the wound sealed itself shut, but I still felt a little dizzy.

A warm hand brushed aside my bangs. "You're bleeding still." His voice, his emerald eyes held nothing but utmost concern, and it was focused entirely on li'l old me. I blinked and felt my cheeks start to color as he gazed unrelentingly at me. It seemed like the ground dropped out from underneath us and our surroundings became a blur; then Hyperion snorted and I snapped out of my trance. Heath seemed to as well and pulled back, showing me the blood on his fingertips.

"You didn't realize you'd been hit in the head?" He said, voicing his concern in a more joking way. "Well, it didn't seem important at the time!" I retorted, swigging some more potion. Bubbles popped around my head wound and I was dizzy no more. I tossed the vulnerary back to Heath, who had re-mounted Hyperion. "Thanks. I owe you one!"

"No problem. And you should tie your hair back more often!"

I looked back to see Heath with a snarky grin on his face. "It looks cute!"

I snapped my head away from him so he couldn't see my face flushing all over again. I'm not used to being called "cute". Hell, I'm not used to getting compliments about my appearance at all. So why would Heath bother to…?

My head whipped back and forth, clearing my thoughts. I would think about that later. For this fight, I needed all the concentration I could get.

* * *

"My, my, my—you've done quite the job on these fellas, haven't you?" 

We all pivoted on the spot, facing towards the roof of the Medieval Hooters, where the unfamiliar voice had come from. The very last vamp had finally fallen; we were every one of us dead tired and pissed as all hell, and not in the mood for any smartass shenanigans.

The person who'd spoken was male, and looked about nineteen or twenty; his dark hair was pulled into a low ponytail, and his crimson eyes glinted confidently down at us. His lean arms were crossed over his chest, on which he wore only a bright scarlet vest with gold clasps. His black pants tucked into worn leather boots, and he had a leather pocket on each thigh, right were his hands fell. They looked like holsters for shuriken, or some other projectile weapon.

Even in his tuckered-out state, Eliwood managed to command some authority. "Who are you? Name yourself!"

The stranger's gaze slid over to Eliwood lazily; he regarded the powerful lord as though her were an annoying gnat, then drawled out in a low tenor: "I've got no business with you. You can't even Cross. You're of no interest to me or my superiors."

Eliwood grit his teeth, angered at being taken so lightly. I didn't blame him; the man wasn't a glory hog, but he was quite powerful in his own right, and just an all-around good guy. He deserved respect, but the stranger wasn't giving it.

The mysterious boy's eyes swept over our contingent before settling on me, probably because I was the one closest to him. "You there," he called out. "You've Crossed, haven't you? I can read it in your aura, you know."

Unconsciously, I shifted to a fighting stance. An aura reader? That was something new. Had to be careful. "I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about," I said. "What do you mean by 'Crossed'?"

"Oh, you know. Crossed. You've come here from a different world. You've crossed over the Rift that divides the worlds. Though it was probably with the help of a Space-time Witch." He chuckled then, and though it seemed a pleasant enough sound, something about it made fear twist in my stomach. Nearby, a flock of birds took flight from a tree, escaping the buoyant, dreadful sound of the boy's laughter. He continued once his chilling fit of laughter passed. "I don't mean to be blunt, but you don't have _nearly_ enough psychic heft to pull yourself across the Rift. Much less any others.

"But still…" His eyes opened, and his bemused crimson gaze fixed upon me again. I swallowed hard. "You and your comrades from a different world interest us. It takes something special to Cross and live to tell the tale, or even to retain your sanity. We should very much indeed like to fight with you." A grin spread over his face at the mention of conflict, as though he couldn't contain his anticipation.

"Who's 'we'?" I managed to say, trying to keep up a brave front. _Stay cool, yo. Never let them see you sweat._

"Oh, how rude of me. The name's Jack. Here's my card," he said, taking out a rectangle of paper from the pouch on his thigh and tossing it cleanly in my direction. I snatched it out of the air and flipped it over to examine it. I found myself looking at the Jack of Diamonds from a deck of playing cards. _Is this some kind of joke?_

"That's me, but as for 'we'… well." He grinned again, a charming yet horribly frightening display of white teeth. "You'll find out eventually, I suppose. Until then, we'll be keeping an eye on you. Best of luck!"

Suddenly a flurry of playing cards appeared from nowhere, swirling around Jack so thickly that they completely obscured him. Then they dissipated into the darkness, and where Jack was previously there was nothing but warm night air.

I glared at that spot atop the roof for several seconds, then looked back down at the card in my hands. One thing I was certain of: Hanna had some talking to do. After this incident, she owed us all an explanation.

"Let's regroup, people! Battle's over. We'll heal our wounds before returning to Moytura."

My feet heeded Eliwood's order before my brain did, carrying me back to the ramshackle base we'd hurriedly set up. I finally snapped out of my introspection when my friends started asking to see the card; I woke up then and passed it around our circle once we got back to camp. Everyone examined it thoroughly, looking for some kind of clue that would give a bigger hint to Jack's identity or who his superiors were. Hanna was forgotten for the moment as we discussed strategy and what we thought of the stranger.

"Well, I think it's pretty safe to say there's a King and Queen of Diamonds," Fil said as he passed the card back to me. "Maybe even an Ace. He did mention that he had superiors, so those rankings make sense."

"But what about other suits or cards ranked lower than him?" Joe said, his military brain kicking into action. "If there are a full thirteen cards for each suit, it could be a problem."

"So?" said Casey. "We took on a force about that big and came out on top before. Remember? That chick with Bolting?"

"Maybe, but…" Dodds shuddered. "That guy was just _creepy_. I mean, those people from before were pushovers. Whoever this guy is, he's on a whole different level."

We fell into grim silence for a while. These people—whoever they were, and if they were even human—wanted to fight with us, ordinary teenagers from the twenty-first century. We had to face that unnatural power that had chilled us to our bones with something as simple as laughter. And some of us couldn't even fight—

_Speaking of which, where the hell's Angel?_

I glanced around the loose circle we'd formed around one of the campfires, but I didn't spot Angelique's gentle, welcoming face anywhere. Paranoia gripped me for a second, but I refused to let it show. What if they'd taken her already—targeted the one person among us who didn't have any weapons at her disposal?

I stood up and mumbled that I was going for a walk. Luckily enough, no one questioned me, and I made my way through the camp, forcing my steps to fall at a normal pace. Freaking out now would only put everybody else on edge and possibly cause mass pandemonium via the domino effect. That was the last thing we needed.

Suddenly I spotted Angel's long head of thick black hair and I jogged towards her, relieved that she was safe. The Cleric was holding her staff out over Fiora's right arm, where a wicked-looking gash was sealing shut. The turquoise-headed Falcoknight remained perfectly stoic throughout the healing process, and she nodded gratefully at Angel when the job was done. Angel's dark eyes lifted as I reached her and she smiled. "Hey. Sorry about running off like that. I couldn't stand just sitting around and not being any help."

"You were a big help," I said. "You must have saved all of us at one point or another during the fight."

She only heaved a sigh. "I know. But it still doesn't feel like I did enough. I want to fight, not hang behind and wait for someone to start bleeding before I can be useful."

"There is a place for everyone in battle," Fiora broke in, her calm voice like a cool, clear rush of water. "Healers are among the most useful people we have among our ranks. Your time will come when you can fight alongside us, but until then, we're all immensely grateful for your skills."

Angel sighed again, but this one wasn't quite so heavy. "Thanks, both of you. It means a lot."

Fiora nodded gently and then walked gracefully off while I remained with Angel. Her eyes began to wander around camp, and they rested on a sight just behind my left shoulder. Her eyes crinkled with amusement and a smile tugged at her full lips. I looked over my shoulder and felt myself smiling as well.

There before us were Guy and Priscilla; the Valkyrie was in the process of healing a large stab wound on the Swordmaster's chest. While she was focused on her work, Guy had turned a shade of crimson that clashed horribly with his forest-green hair, obviously nervous at the close proximity of Priscilla. The poor kid was probably all hot and bothered and beyond embarrassed about it. I suppressed the urge to "Awww!" out loud.

"They're so cute, aren't they?" Angel said, keeping her voice low. They were close enough to the point where they could hear us if they really tried and we spoke too loudly. Right now, though, they were too absorbed in each other to hear us anyways.

Then a third party entered the picture: the Oscar the Grouch of our little group, a.k.a. Raven. As soon as Guy was healed, he hauled the skinnier boy to his feet, keeping a death-grip on his arm. The Hero hissed his words through his teeth, but I could still make out what he was saying.

"I think you were enjoying getting healed a little too much, _boy_," Raven said, spitting out his last word like it tasted bad. Hey, at least he hadn't used 'Sacaean'. Raven may have been perpetually cranky, but he wasn't racist. Still, there was venom in his words, brought on by what he thought was an affront to his dear little sister's integrity. "If I _ever_ see you within five feet of her again, I'll cut your balls off. Understand?"

"Brother!" Priscilla protested, her cheeks turning light pink at Raven's threat. Guy looked like he was about to retort, but he didn't get the chance… because Angel was stepping forward for him.

"Hey!" she said to Raven. "Just who died and made you God, huh? You don't have the right to tell them who they can and can't be with!"

I quirked my eyebrow and took in Angel's stance; weight shifted onto one leg, right hand resting on the prominent curve of her hip, left hand free to gesticulate as she wished. I knew that stance. Raven was in a lot more trouble than he knew.

The redhead's eyes narrowed and he gave Angel a once-over. He saw her Cleric's robe and the Heal Staff still clutched in her right hand and didn't deem her as a threat. "This doesn't concern you, stupid girl. Mind your own business."

"_Who's_ stupid?" The thought rose up on reflex in my mind: _OH SNAP!!_ "I'm not the one acting all high-and-mighty and threatenin' an innocent boy for no reason! People are people, and they have a right to be with whoever they want to!"

"No reason?" Raven snarled. He had let go of Guy and was now focusing all his energy on Angel. "That 'innocent boy' was corrupting my sister! Compromising her status as a noble lady!"

"She doesn't seem so 'corrupted' to me! Did you even bother to ask her what _she _thinks about all this?"

Raven snorted and crossed his arms. "I'm her older brother and I know what's best for her. I make decisions for her. What she thinks is of no consequence."

_CRACK!!_

Total silence descended upon the camp; Raven seemed frozen in time, his body still arching to the right and away from Angel, so great was the force of the smack she'd delivered to his cheek. His shock at being completely taken off guard couldn't have been clearer if he'd had 'PWNED' scrawled across his cheek. He slowly straightened his posture, his wide, dark brown eyes gazing at Angel with something like… awe?

The Cleric, meanwhile, still had her arm extended, her face shadowed by her hair. Then she spoke, her voice low and dangerous. "You've got major _cojones_ to say that—I'll give you that much." She looked up, and there was unmistakable outrage written in her eyes. For a brief second, there was a flash of fear on Raven's face. "But you know, I don't care how hot you are. You're going down, little man!"

Angel lunged forward, Raven scrambled back, and I managed to get the Latina into a full nelson before she could make another swipe at him. She raged against my grasp, kicking out and demanding that I let her go.

"You heard what he said! You just gonna let him get away with that?"

I sweatdropped as she kept up her fierce protests, brandishing her fists and even her stave at the redhead, who was still staring at her with an expression of astonishment… from a safe distance, of course.

"This ain't over, you! I better not hear of you talking like that again, or you'll wish you were never born! You hear me?"

I sighed. This was the same girl who worried that she wasn't valuable enough in a fight. She was probably the most dangerous of us all.

* * *

Yes... Angel smacked Raven. And successfully scared the crap out of him. Ph33r t3h Angel.(FBJ: In both real life and T3H 5T0RY!!) 

So, be sure to leave a review and tell me what you think! (FBJ: Doth thou wish to say anything other than what thou hath just said?)

Sigh... and be sure to check out Triple Entente Chronicles by Fireball Jack. Anything to make him stop that goddamn Shakespeare-Speak. (FBJ: K-THX!)


	6. The Fourth Triumvirate

And so, after a long and arduous wait, the sixth chapter has arrived, just in time for the holiday season! ...Or not... Hey, I'm only a couple days late! And there's always New Year's...

Anyways, I would like to thank my friend Darian for threatening... er, motivating me into finishing this chapter. Without our spur-of-the-moment sleepover this wouldn't be out until February.

I'll just stick this in here awkwardly. Disclaimers are always awkward. I DON'T OWN FIRE EMBLEM.

A couple of chapters ago there was a 'plot twist' that involved Zac becoming a father. Since I'm too lazy to go back and correct this, I want you all to just forget about it. That's right: ignore the plot twist behind that curtain! I command you!

In addition, this chapter contains a couple references to various eclectic parodies that are floating around in the internet. You may recognize a few, so keep your eyes open.

All will finally be explained in this chapter. Yes, to make up for losing a somewhat insignificant plot twist, we have a MASSIVE plot twist to take its place. I hope you enjoy. So, without further ado, I give you the sixth chapter of Triple Entente.

-LE

* * *

I love almost every kind of music. You will find everything from blues to techno on my iPod. But most days, I am all about rock. Not rock like watered-down, Top-40, specifically-for-radio crap; I'm talkin' rock like RAWK, like blow-out-your-eardrums, bang-your-head-until-your-neck-cramps-up, beat-yo-ass hardcore _metal_. And if it happens to be in German, I'm in hog heaven.

"BANG BANG!!"

So, that explains how I came to be flailing along like a complete retard as I screamed lyrics in a language I didn't even speak. That also explains how Zac, who actually _does_ speak German, came to be rocking out next to me, though of course from a safe distance. People tend to get hurt when I step onto the dance floor.

"You know who would enjoy this?" I shouted to Zac, barely able to hear my own words over the guitar screeching into my headphones. He winced at the volume, and I think he said, "No, who?" back. I had to try to read his lips.

"Darian!" I shouted. The song ended and I put it on pause so I could catch my breath. "You know, Darian Peterson?" I said, my voice back to normal.

Zac's brow furrowed in thought. "You mean… the Orochimaru fangirl?" He said, his face looking slightly pale, and for good reason. I had come to refer to the girl we were discussing as, "The Darian." Why? Because there is only _one_ Darian Peterson. Therefore, the use of a singular article is very appropriate. Darian was fond of saying that she, "sided with the Dark Side"—adding that to her skill at fencing made her a force to be reckoned with. She was also incredibly intelligent and was an intense debater; she could argue with someone for hours, provided that they weren't reduced to a quivering wreck in the first five minutes. Her vocabulary was even over my head sometimes—and not to brag, but I've got a pretty damn big vocabulary. She loved writing fanfiction, and was known for her… ahem… _unique_ taste in pairings. Darian had been described as weird, crazy, and even as a bitch, but she just laughed maniacally at it all and kept on dancing to the beat of her own drum. She was a little dose of the extraordinary in my previously ordinary life—something that I needed every once in a while. Despite all her eccentricities, I was glad to know her.

In the corner of my eye, the sunlight glinted off silver. I looked to my left and saw that Angel was walking next to me; the light had reflected off of the heart-shaped charm on her bracelet. I didn't need to look closer to know it had 'big sis' engraved on it. Angel was fiddling idly with it, and I knew she was thinking of the girl who possessed the fraternal twin of that bracelet. Namely, her younger sister, Raquel.

Angel and Raquel were similar in a lot of ways; they both tried to hide their sadness from their friends, and both weren't afraid to speak their minds or stick up for others. But Raquel was just a little more short-tempered, just a little more sarcastic. Angel was slightly reserved and modest where Raquel was confident and bold. On one hand, it meant Raquel struck up conversation and made friends easily; on the other hand, it meant she could incite people's wrath like nothing else. Then again, Raquel was no softie. She was just as dangerous as Angel when provoked. They had little fights, just like all siblings do, but they still looked out for each other. It must have really been bothering Angel not knowing how Raquel was faring without her.

"I miss her, too."

"Hm?" Angel looked up, having been too lost in thought to hear me. "Raquel," I clarified. "I miss her, too."

"Yeah…" Angel sighed. "Or , you know who else? Whitney. Like, I hadn't gotten to hang out with her in a while before we left, and now I'm wondering if I'll ever see her again."

"Yeah… I'm wondering that, too."

Whitney. I wasn't the kind of person to choose one friend over others as a 'best friend', but Whitney was definitely a prime candidate. When I first met her, she seemed detached somehow—nice enough, but hard to get to know. But we had to get through 7th grade Gym class somehow, so we would talk to each other, and gradually we realized how much we had in common. And it was worth taking the time to know Whitney; she was one of the sweetest people I'd ever known, and always knew how to make me feel better when I was sad. She also had a flair for technology that I did not possess, and often times our sleepovers revolved around repairing a busted GameCube controller or figuring out how to get the internet on my computer. Whitney was kind of like my other half—not in the romantic way, mind you. She was more sensible and straight-laced, and helped get me back in line when I was spending too much time in dreamland. I guess you could say she was the yin to my yang. The Siegfried to my Roy. Any other analogies you can think of.

"Eeeeeee! Oh my GAWD!!"

_Three guesses who that was. First two don't count._

My introspection was broken by Serra's squeal of delight; the pink-haired Cleric bounced up and down, pointing excitedly at a wooden sign in the shape of an arrow. _Akaiyama Hot Springs_, it read, and directed us down a path that forked away from the main one and ran into the woods. "Doesn't that sound great? We totally _have_ to go, Lord Hector!"

The blue-haired man raised an eyebrow skeptically. "Why, exactly? We don't have the time or the gold for such luxuries."

"Oh, come on. It would do us good to take a rest," Lyn said. Her nose wrinkled as she caught a whiff of the group's odor. "Not to mention, we're all starting to smell. Bad."

Eliwood put a hand to his chin as he considered this as well. "It might well be worth the price. And really, we haven't got a clue where the enemy resides, so it isn't as though we're racing towards their lair." He turned towards Merlinus, who had ceased driving the cart when Serra saw the sign for the hot springs. "How are we doing on funds?"

The pompous merchant withdrew an abacus from within his cloak and slid some beads around purposefully. "I believe we have enough for a night's stay. There's no way to be certain unless we ask their rates."

"Actually, there _is_ a way. We don't go," Hector said, crossing his arms and giving us his best scowl. There were a few groans and shouts of protest from the group; Florina descended from the air to put her two cents in, but she yelped and winced in pain when she tried to dismount her pegasus. Lyn rushed to her side and Hector's glare was replaced with a look of concern… which very closely resembled his glare.

"Are you all right?" Lyn asked, hovering next to Makar. "Y-yes," Florina said, rubbing the top of her left thigh. "But I think I pulled a muscle in that last fight. And I haven't been able to take a bath or do anything to loosen it up…"

"Is that so?" Lyn looked over her shoulder at Hector with a grin like a bobcat's. Hector turned a faint shade of coral pink, swiveled around on his heel, and coughed loudly.

"Well then… to the hot springs!"

* * *

Somewhere in the mountains, not too far from the aforementioned Akaiyama Hot Springs, a short girl with a long blonde braid froze in mid-step. Her companion, a tall man whose appearance was largely hidden by a black cloak, stopped and turned to look back at her.

"What is it?"

"… MY HECTORxFLORINA SENSE IS TINGLING! Finally my plans have paid off! This pairing shall be realized! BWA HA HA HA!!"

The cloaked man sweatdropped, something that had become a habit since he first met this eccentric girl. "Yes. I see…" He neglected to bring up that though this fic was indeed of the crack variety, it had been previously agreed that there would be no breaking of the fourth wall. Then again, in the week he'd known the girl, he'd seen more wall- and rule-breaking than he had his whole life.

* * *

I will tell you right now: nothing, absolutely _nothing_ beats sinking into a warm bath when your muscles are sore and your whole body has just been cleansed of a layer of grime. Guys, if you have a special lady and really want to pamper her, take her to a hot spring. Of course, the first part of this whole setup—the part that didn't include the heavenly bath—was great, too, at least for me. After weeks of ducking into streams and lakes to wash up, a good hard scrubbing was very much appreciated. With soap and shampoo and everything. That uncleanliness that can only be described as 'icky', and now my fresh new self could relax, relax away.

I must have been revolting before, I realized. My hair all greasy and my B.O. all funky. Looking less than supermodel-gorgeous I could deal with, but I _hated_ smelling bad.

_Ugh. __**Very**__ attractive, Maddie. I'll bet that scored big points with Heath._

Now let's straighten this out, mmkay? I did not flirt with Heath. I was not trying to seduce him in any way, shape, or form. But I did not want the man thinking I was descended from a mountain troll, either. I would prefer for him to think I was reasonably pretty. Just this side of average, so that when I cleaned up I'd knock his socks off. If he indeed wore socks.

All right, so I was attracted to him. But I would _not_ flaunt my barely-there sex appeal, dammit! Besides, I just wasn't good at that sort of thing.

I sighed again and sank into the water deeper, pulling my legs up to my chest. Who was I kidding? Heath was probably out of my league. I was willing to bet the mild flattery he'd pulled out was just him being nice. Hell, maybe he even had a sweetheart back in Bern. Someone soft and feminine who didn't have the bad habit of cussing like a sailor under stress. Compared to this hypothetical lover, I was just another one of the guys.

But I could still think about him, in all his gorgeousness that I could not hope to match. He did have wonderful long legs, and broad shoulders just short of intimidating. It was fascinating how the strength in his lean muscles was so visible, all coiled up in his forearms and his posture. And his hair and eyes were simply lovely. Green hair might have been commonplace in Elibe, but to me it was exotic and beautiful—and his premature streak of white made it more so, somehow. His eyes glowed the most when he'd been flying for a while and had just come down, the rush of oxygen flushing his face just barely. He looked so happy then.

But then sometimes I'd catch him with this pensive look on his face, and then he looked so troubled that my li'l empathetic self wanted to give him a hug and tell him he was forgiven. Despite all the little chats we'd had, I still knew so little about him. All I knew was that he seemed like a nice guy… and that he was, in all likelihood, out of my league.

"Goddammit," I muttered.

"And what exactly is God damning?"

I started when I heard the half-familiar voice, my motion sending ripples through the serene water. Through the thin haze of steam, a woman's form appeared. _Well, __**durr**__! This is the women's bath! What were you expecting, Maddie, an antelope?_

I saw the scar that made a vicious line down powerful curves and I had a miniature panic attack. Not her. Please, not her in this moment of emotional vulnerability.

"Um, hello, Ms—Lady—General—" I stumbled over different titles, but Vaida held up a hand to silence me. "Calm down, girl. I'm not about to tear your head off."

I did as she commanded, but kept my legs drawn towards my chest. There are some people you just do not want to be naked around for fear of your mortal flesh. Vaida was one of those people.

"Now then. I'll repeat my question. Why were you wishing God to curse something?"

I paused, and tried to figure out how to answer without sacrificing my dignity.

"Um, Vaida… what's it like—I mean… what are the, uh, standards for women in Bern?"

Vaida's golden eyes glittered, and I knew she'd seen right through my ploy. Still, she chose to humor me.

"Women in Bern are educated in the arts of war, and are encouraged to learn how to fight."

I raised an eyebrow. Vaida continued. "It is believed that strong women bear strong children, and that even women should be prepared to defend their country. That would be a worst-case scenario, of course." She shrugged and leaned back against the rocks that lined the spring. "In general, weak women are thought unattractive. Women are encouraged to strive for athletic and physical perfection…" She trailed off and glanced at me. "So you can imagine that when I received this scar I lost a point or two.

"But still." My eyes widened to see a grin—not one of her cocky smirks—spread over Vaida's face. "I am content to say that I enjoyed freedom in Bern that a woman would not find elsewhere."

That made me smile. At least one country around here was on the right track in terms of gender equality. I had always liked Sparta better than Athens, and that was even before _300_ came out.

"So, does that answer your… question?" Vaida said, smirking down at me like she was my worldly aunt and had just told me something my mother would disapprove of. I returned the conspiratorial grin. "Yes. Thank you, ma'am."

She nodded, then froze suddenly. Vaida snapped her head around to look behind her, then whirled back to me, her gold eyes flashing. Then, "This conversation never happened, understood?"

Her voice was low and lethal, and I was reminded of just who I was talking to. "Yes'm!" I said, though I was confused at Vaida's sudden switch back to her ruthless, hardass persona. I found my answer when practically every other girl in our party entered the spring with much girlish squealing and sighs of relief. I hid my grin beneath the surface of the water. Vaida had her own reputation to uphold, after all.

Since the awkwardness of being nekkid doesn't seem so bad if everyone else is, I uncurled my limbs and let the water unknot my muscles. So… strong women were valued in Bern, huh? Who'd have thought my blatant feminism would ever come in handy?

**

* * *

Heath**

"Wouldja stop goofing off, guys?"

"YOU!!"

I could only laugh as Eliwood tried to quiet down Casey and Fil, who were singing one of their native songs again. Joe, Dodds, and Zac didn't seem to know this one—Joe chuckled and shook his head every so often, Dodds looked embarrassed and tried to hide underwater, and Zac merely sighed and looked irritated. Sain had joined in, however, though he could only shout the "YOU". But he had picked up the frankly ridiculous dance that went along with it. Kent had buried his head in his hands in shame. Poor guy really needed a break.

Actually, he needed to lay Fiora already. Take one worry off his mind, at least.

"SOULJA BOY UP IN THAT HO—"

Fil was cut short as a frying pan whacked him upside the head. The kitchen implement then boomeranged back into the hands of the head chef, who was standing in the entrance to the spring. "You hooligans quiet down! This is a place of relaxation, not of mindless tomfoolery!"

He stormed off and Fil rubbed the back of his head. "Dang. And I was all set for some quality tomfoolery."

"I say, that is a nasty bump you're getting, Fil," Canas said, popping up behind the Boxer. Kind of creepy, how he snuck around like that…

"Would you like me to look at it?" Without waiting for an answer, he focused intently on the back of Fil's head and tugged on the chain on his monocle.

Yes, he wore his monocle in the bath. It's Canas. Why are you surprised?

Fil shifted uncomfortably as Canas 'hmm'ed. "Well, there doesn't appear to be any fracturing of bones. You should be fine."

"Yeah, 'kay, thanks." Fil had a look like if Canas didn't back up _right the fuck now_, the Shaman was gonna get popped in the face. But Matthew wasn't concerned with how Fil felt about his personal space; his sharp eyes had noticed something else.

"Canas… can your monocle… see through things?"

The Shaman blinked. "Of course it can. You didn't know?"

There was a moment of silence, and then a chorus of giggling drifted through the air. As one, we looked towards the wall of bamboo that separated the women's bath from the men's. And we were all reminded that just beyond that wall was a veritable paradise of nubile, attractive, _naked_ young girls.

"GIMME THAT DAMN MONOCLE!!"

I don't know who shouted it first, but I am proud to say that I was not part of the free-for-all wrestling match that ensued. Don't get me wrong, I'm a straight boy—and if that monocle happened to land in my hand, I would damn well use it. But I'm not so desperate as to fight tooth and nail over it. Like Sain was doing… and Hector… and Wil… and Matthew… and… was that Lucius?

"And they call _us_ savages," Rath muttered to Guy. Guy nodded, and glanced nervously at Raven. The Hero returned it with mild disinterest, then closed his eyes and shifted slightly. In Ravenese, that meant he approved of Guy's actions.

"Oh, give it back, Pent, you see Louise naked practically every day!"

"To the victor go the spoils, my boy!"

But then the Sage was clotheslined by Hector and the fight began anew. Kent groaned and tossed a washcloth over his face. "This is just ridiculous," he said, his voice muffled by the cloth.

"Ah, come on!" Sain managed to shout as he fixed Fil in a headlock. "You know you'd look at Fiora if you had the chance! You just don't have the guts with all of us around!"

Kent sank deeper into the water until half of his now-pink face was obscured. Matthew thrust his hand into the air in victory, the monocle within his grasp, but Erk brought him down when he leapt onto his back. The resulting splash drenched us innocent bystanders; Zac wrung out his long hair, now looking slightly more irritated. "Cut it out, will ya? You're all acting like sick degenerates."

"Hey, they're only human," Joe said with a shrug, defending them even though he hadn't entered the fray himself. "Maybe, but it's still pissing me off," Zac snapped.

"Even if we are human," Raven said, his brown eyes functioning like laser beams as he looked at all of us, "We should have some level of discipline. This," he waved a hand at the brawl before us, "Is absolutely disgraceful."

"Oh really?" Wil said as he emerged from underwater, monocle in hand. "Let's see how _you_ handle it, Mr. Discipline!"

And before Raven could do anything, Wil had shoved the monocle into his face and yanked on the chain. Raven tried to pry the monocle off his face, but Wil batted his hands away and forcibly turned Raven's head in the direction of the bamboo wall.

I think it was seeing the blood gush from his nose that made me break into convulsive laughter.

"Aw, no fair, Wil! Give it here!"

Wil chuckled and slipped the monocle off Raven's face; the Hero remained motionless, still staring off into space, still bleeding profusely from his right nostril. Good times.

Matthew was the next one to snatch up the monocle. He gave a low whistle as he gazed through it. "Damn. Maria has a really nice ass. How did I ever think she was a guy?"

He passed it on, and it changed hands relatively peacefully; apparently everyone was sick of fighting each other. Erk took it next, but he only looked a few seconds before handing it to Hector. "Forget it. She's wearing a towel."

"Oh? So who's the lucky lady?" Fil said, nudging Erk with his elbow. Erk's response came swiftly, like lighting from rain clouds. "As if I'd tell you, you idiotic clot."

_Zzzzing!_

"Hector, stop drooling over Florina. Some of us haven't seen anything yet."

Hector reluctantly ripped his gaze from the monocle and turned to glare at whoever had sassed him. Sain took his opportunity and grabbed the monocle, but he groaned in disappointment as he looked through it. "Man! They've all gone back inside. Maddie's the only one out there—ah, she's leaving, too."

Now, I'm not quite sure why, but knowing that Sain was looking at Maddie in particular set my teeth on edge. He didn't know anything about her—barely even saw her as a girl at all. And he loved Lyndis, anyway; what right did he have to look at Maddie? He didn't appreciate her strength. He didn't know how she could be compassionate and tough at the same time, he didn't know what a sense of humor she had once you got her talking. He didn't know how fiercely she defended her opinions, didn't know how she could beat Casey in an arm-wrestling match and have the class to not brag about it.

He didn't know. And suddenly I felt like I had to get out of the hot springs, _now_.

I snatched up a towel and tossed it around my waist. I ignored questions about where I was going and slammed the sliding door behind me. It took about three strides to get through the bathhouse, and then another sliding door opened into the cooler hallway. I was so wrapped up in my thoughts that I had to collide with a soft, warm body before I realized where I was.

"Oh, sorry—" And then I looked down and saw who I'd run into. Her dark, wavy hair was damp and stuck to her pale skin; one strand was resting on her cheek, and it drew attention to her pearly pink lips. She'd thrown on a white robe, but I could still see that tender, sensitive area where her neck met her shoulder. I could still steal a hint at how her body curved underneath that layer of cotton. Then her brown eyes looked up at me through thick dark eyelashes—only I realized they weren't brown at all, they were mostly green, a bright emerald green—and I felt my breath hitch.

"H-Heath," Maddie stammered, and her eyes flickered over me. I wished I had a robe for a second, but withdrew that wish when I saw how cutely the blood rushed to her cheeks. "Um, sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"It's fine," I said, too quickly. _Real smooth, lady-killer. Why're you getting flustered, anyways? It's just your __**good friend**__, right?_ Yeah, sure. That sounded good.

"So, um, I'm just gonna—"

"Yeah, me too—"

Then we did that awkward dance where we both tried to slip past each other, only we both went the same direction, so I tried to compensate, but she did, too, so we both still went the same direction. She laughed nervously and we finally got past each other, walking to the opposite ends of the hall. My arm tingled where she'd brushed against me, and I couldn't help but wonder if she felt it, too.

**

* * *

Maddie**

Oh, great. Where's a bottomless abyss when you need it?

"You gonna eat those potatoes?"

I wordlessly shoved my half-eaten food at Dodds, who progressed to inhale the sustenance like there was no tomorrow. After my run-in with Heath, I'd had to take a few minutes to calm myself down before I changed back into my clothes. That is, I had to shut up the part of me that wanted to squeal like a fangirl when I saw Heath half-naked.

Of course, as my phenomenally poor luck would have it, I had dallied just a minute too long, and the only seat left in the whole dining hall was right across from the Wyvern Lord himself. Joy.

And somehow he was acting like nothing was wrong! Just sat there, munching away at his dinner. The only thing that hinted something was troubling him even a little was that he refused to make eye contact. As did I, so no problems there.

Ugh, why was I even letting this bother me so much? It wasn't like I'd never seen a guy shirtless before! I'd been swimming with my homies plenty of times!

Then my "Inner Maddie" decided to show up. _**Yeah, but your homies ain't ever been so fine! BOW-CHICKA-BOW-BOW!!**_

I repressed the urge to headdesk. Instead I leaned an elbow on the table and very pointedly did not look at how Heath's Adam's apple bobbed when he took a swig of ale. No. I _definitely_ did not look at that.

Letting my eyes wander, I drank in the countenance of some of the other people staying at the hot springs. There weren't many, but that might be because our party was taking up most of the dining hall. A couple sat in the corner, caught up in each other's eyes—_so sweet my teeth hurt_, I thought; a group of guys had pushed two tables together and were behaving like your average schmucks. One of 'em was completely soused, but in general they didn't seem malignant.

And there was one more, a lone figure sitting at a table all by herself. She was short—shorter than Jordan—and her lean form was clothed in a fencing outfit, the black cloth cloaking her from throat to knee, where it gave way to ebony boots that had flexible soles. Stark against this obsidian background was her long blonde braid that stretched down the length of her spine. Black leather gloves covered her hands, which were calmly folded on the table.

She'd been staring at the table in silent contemplation, but then she seemed to realize she was being watched; piercing ice-blue eyes caught my gaze with quicksilver speed, and I swallowed hard. She split into a grin—a maniacal grin, an _evil_ grin—one that I knew all too well.

Oh yeah. That was definitely _her_. And knowing her, she had to be up to something.

There was a poke at my deltoid, and I looked to my left to see Maria's chocolate gaze fixed on me. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I just—" I looked back to where I'd seen the blonde girl, but she'd vanished. "Just what?" Maria asked, cocking her head to the side.

"I just… thought I saw Darian."

I shook my head. "I'm probably just light-headed from the steam or something. Or maybe I'm hungrier than I thought… Oi, Dodds. I'm stealing my potatoes back."

**

* * *

The Darian**

_Dammit! What's Maddie doing here?! I wasn't told about this! Someone's head will roll for this indiscretion! _

With these thoughts in mind I made my speedy exit from the quaint little hot springs and re-entered the forest, where Ephidel was waiting for me. His luminescent golden eyes glimmered in the descending evening, though the rest of his face was shadowed by the hood of his cape.

"Took care of it that fast, did you?" He said, a wry smirk curling his lips. I shook my head and the smirk faded. "Something's come up," I divulged. "I'm going to have to speak to Little Jackie about this," I said, putting extra malice on my nickname for my superior.

"Hm." My companion frowned slightly. "You mean you won't be able to play?"

I grinned and waved my hand as if to fan away that ugly notion. "Of course I can play! It's been ever so long since I watched the life leave someone's eyes."

Paradoxically, Ephidel's eyes took on a new luster at my words. "Let's go then. I've had a certain village magistrate dancing like a puppet on strings for quite some time now…"

Ephidel pivoted and made to glide away—because he didn't simply _walk_, it was much more predatory than that—but he stopped when a chuckle bubbled up in my throat.

"What is it?"

"Oh, nothing. You just reminded me of a certain someone, that's all. I wonder what he would say to that…?"

**

* * *

Somewhere in the **_**Naruto**_** universe…**

"AH-CHOOO!"

"Danna, I think you're coming down with something."

"It's not that… some bastard's been stealing my moves again."

"You should really get a copyright on that, un!"

"Perhaps I shall…"

**

* * *

Back to Maddie…**

I had to marvel at how Jordan could pack away so much food in that tiny body. Here I felt like I was about to explode, and she was consuming yet another plate of pasta.

"My God, woman! Where are you putting all that?"

Jordan slurped down a mouthful of alfredo and grinned across the table at Rath, who had asked the incredulous question. "It's simple. This is a dining technique passed down through the Craft family for generations!"

The Nomad Trooper raised an eyebrow at the FMA reference and Jordan waved her fork dismissively. "Never mind, it's an inside joke. Let's just say that I work it off." And she resumed eating without missing a beat.

I chuckled at this, but my laughter died when it was eclipsed by a sound from a couple tables away. It had come from where the regular guys were sitting; the drunken one was making some commotion with the waitress.

"Look, m'shorry I'm makin' a fush, bu' ish no' mah fault, shee?"

"Not your fault, my ass! Did those ten drinks just _magically_ find their way into your stomach?"

The waitress tossed her head to clear her black bangs from her dark eyes, though on the whole her hair only went to about her chin. Her skin was a light mocha color, and voluptuous curves filled out her waitress's uniform. Something on her wrist glinted in the light from the braziers that illuminated the dining hall, and my eyes widened fractionally when I saw the charm dangling from a bracelet.

On the other side of the table, one of Drunken Boy's chums was apologizing to another waitress. "I'm really sorry, he's not usually like this…"

She let out a peal of nervous laughter. "Well, I'm pretty sure he's not usually drunk…" This waitress was taller than the previous one, with straight blonde hair that went just past her shoulders. She had light eyes, but I couldn't tell what color they were at this distance. Her build reminded me of Viking women—like one of the Valkyries from Norse legend.

"Hey, wher'ya goin'?"

"Let go of me, you bastard!"

The dark-haired waitress had started to leave, but Drunken Boy had grabbed onto her wrist and wasn't letting go. The blonde's eyes flashed—I could only watch, open-mouthed, as she pulled what was unmistakably a badminton racquet out of nowhere and brought it down mercilessly on the drunken guy's forearm.

That only cemented what I'd thought before. I'd only seen one person smash like that, that smash that screamed, "_Rejected!_" It had to be Whitney. And that viper's tongue was 100 percent bona-fide Raquel.

"Ow!" The pain seemed to snap Drunken Boy out of his state of inebriation. "Shit, I think she broke my arm!"

Whitney slung the racquet over her shoulder like it was a sword and sighed. "Well, you shouldn't have grabbed onto her like that." She turned to the one she'd been talking to earlier. "I'll heal him if you like, but you need to pay and get out of here."

The other boys nodded frantically, intimidated by this docile-looking waitress who'd snapped an arm with one blow. Silently, Whitney crouched down and took out a Mend Staff from where it was tucked into the strings of her apron and let the soothing blue light stitch together the broken bone. Then the four boys zoomed out at lightspeed, leaving behind a cloud of dust and a gratuitous tip on the table. I decided now was a good time to approach my two friends and pushed out of my seat.

"Ha! Good riddance, the bastards," Raquel said, rubbing her wrist. "Thanks for the backup, by the way."

Whitney nodded, then froze and blinked when she saw me heading towards them. Raquel followed her gaze, and the Latina's brown eyes lit up when she saw me. "Holy crap, you're alive!"

"Yeah, barely," I replied, pausing before I started infringing on their personal space. "But have you guys been up here this whole time?"

Raquel was about to answer, but she was cut off by the wall exploding.

I shielded my eyes against the dust and debris that sailed towards us; as the haze cleared I could see that the couple was making a break for it, but Raquel and Whitney were still around. I heard lots of metallic clanking and knew that our group was getting ready to rumble. Maybe if we moved quickly we could get Whitney and Raquel to safety.

"Now, mortals!" An unfamiliar voice boomed. "Bow before the Ten of Hearts and the Ten of Diamonds!"

_Bloody brilliant. Of _all _the possible people, it just _has _to be two of the Cards._ The smoke began to clear, revealing two figures standing in the rubble. One of them was enormous, easily nine feet tall, and as thick as the trunk of an ancient redwood. His thick red armor made artificial thunder as he stepped into the dining hall, and the visor on his helmet made it impossible to see his facial features. A diamond was etched in gold in the center of his chest, and a Javelin was held firmly in his right hand.

The person sitting on his shoulder was no doubt the Ten of Hearts. In stark contrast to the massive Knight, he was slender and short. His hair was a wispy gray that fell over his forehead, and round spectacles were perched on the tip of his nose. He was dressed in a plain white yukata that was trimmed in silver, and a red heart rested on his left breast. He looked like a total sissy next to the behemoth that was the Ten of Diamonds, but as his glasses glinted his crimson eyes twinkled with malice. My spine shuddered again, like it had with Jack.

"Ingente," the Ten of Hearts said in a light tenor, "Please set me down."

The Ten of Diamonds lifted his massive hand and the slim boy stepped daintily into his palm, then waited patiently as he was lowered to the floor. Ingente spoke then, his bass rumble of a voice reverberating off his armor. "Will you be all right by yourself, Fluet?"

"I'll be fine," Fluet said confidently. "You go outside."

To our amazement, the colossal man actually complied with the tiny boy's request and lumbered outside, where evening was starting to descend. "Oh, no you don't!" Dart shouted, and went to dash outside as well, but as soon as he reached the hole in the wall, some invisible force repelled him back into the room like he'd been shot from a rubber band. "What the—" he choked, then gave a wet-sounding cough. When he lifted his head, a rivulet of blood was running down his chin.

Fluet smirked. "You'll find that our force fields are not so easily broken. Only those who have crossed the Rift can get through them. And you'll get the same results if you simply rush at me."

There was a glimmer in the air around him as he spoke, and I could almost make out an iridescent sphere that formed a protective bubble around Fluet. "Ranged weapons won't work, either. Your weapons will be coated in your aura, and only the aura of one who has Crossed can pierce the force field."

Hawkeye, who had been preparing to throw his hand axe, frowned and lowered his arm. "Okay…" Eliwood began. "Is anyone willing to go outside and fight the Knight?"

There was a pause, and then Joe stepped forward. "I'll do it. No offense, but I think I'm physically the strongest one here."

"I'll go with ya," Casey volunteered. "I've got some experience taking down guys bigger than me."

Joe smiled at him and Casey returned the grin; then they both charged out through the hole in the wall. I heard Joe whistle for his Pegasus, and then the flapping of wings, and then silence.

"My, my, does no one want to step up against me?" Fluet said mildly. "Such a shame. I'll have to attack you all, then."

And then—and as crazy as it sounds, this is what happened—he caught on fire. Yet he didn't seem to be affected by it; he merely grinned and waved his arm purposefully. A fireball rocketed towards our group and we scattered; I looked back, expecting to see a table with a charred hole in it, nothing more. Instead the table had been totally incinerated, and the stone floor had cracked and blackened. A thin stream of smoke rose up from the center of the crater.

That's when I started to get nervous. All this time I'd been thinking that the big Knight was the one who'd busted through the wall. But now it could have been this skinny, almost sickly looking Sage.

_I just hope that Joe and Casey will be fine on their own. It looks like we'll have our hands full here…_

**

* * *

Joe**

There's a reason that I used to dream about being in the Air Force. It's because there is nothing that could ever equal the feeling you get when you fly. It was fun enough in a plane, but it's ten times better on a Pegasus. Just you and the wind and a mythological creature.

It makes me wish I could enjoy it without worrying about being speared. But them's the brakes.

The javelin whizzed by my head once more, just barely missing my ear; I banked hard to the right and looked down to the clearing to see the Knight lumbering towards his fallen Javelin. Casey, the crazy bastard, was running full-tilt towards him, and I saw him make a flying leap onto Ingente's back just as he reached his weapon. Casey managed to work his arm through the gap between Ingente's helmet and breastplate, then cinched his arm around the giant's neck in a chokehold. Ingente started flailing from side to side, trying to shake Casey off, but somehow the son of a gun held on.

"Joe!" He hollered. "Do it now!"

My hand tightened around the Heavy Spear that Farina had given me. She'd said that I was unusually strong for a Falcoknight, since most of them focused on speed and accuracy. Now I had to put that strength to the test. I pressed on Aed's flanks with my knees, and then we were plummeting towards earth, the wind making my eyes water. But I had to be able to see. I had to make this strike count, or Casey was chopped liver.

My arm tensed as I lifted the Heavy Spear, and at the last second I rammed it into Ingente's chest, using my own strength as well as the inertia from our fall. Time slowed to a crawl. Casey looked like he was moving through water, not air, as he braced his legs against Ingente's back and pushed off. He sailed six feet away from us before his back hit the ground and he skid even further in a cloud of dirt. The metal of Ingente's armor wrinkled, buckled, broke against the point of the spear. Then God pressed fast-forward to make up for the time we'd lost in slow-mo; Aed and I went hurtling forward, and the spear came with us until I couldn't hold on without losing my arm.

We couldn't land correctly at the speed we were going; Aed toppled over and I went with him, but I rolled like Farina had taught me and avoided getting crushed by my own steed. My limbs were shaking with adrenaline, but somehow I got back on my feet. Aed was just stumbling up at the same time, and he sneezed loudly once he was upright. "Good boy," I said, patting his nose. "That was good work you did.

"You all right, man?" I hollered at Casey, who was bent over with his hands on his knees. He waved and drew himself up to his full height, wincing as he did so. "Fine. I think I cut up my back a little, but it's nothing."

I nodded and walked back to where Ingente lay motionless on his stomach. My boots squelched on the ground when I got within a few feet of him, and I swallowed hard to hold back a gag at the smell of so much blood. "Hope you're in a better place, friend," I murmured. "If not, good luck in Hell." And I tugged the Heavy Spear from his now-cold chest.

"Ew…" Casey's nose wrinkled. "Is that his heart? Man, I'd hate to be the one cleaning _that_ up."

**

* * *

Dodds**

_Crap, crap, crap! Why did you turn on me, fire?! WHY?!!_

A wall of flame surged up in front of me; my feet scrambled madly on the floor as I tried to backpedal. I ended up tripping over myself and had to make a mad dash—er, crawl—to the nearest table.

Which was made of wood. Come on, people! Find something less flammable next time!

Unfortunately I couldn't get away from the burning table fast enough to save my cape; I threw it off before the flames could reach the rest of my clothes. _Well, there go my dreams of being a superhero._

I made a running leap towards the kitchen, which had not yet caught on fire, thankfully. Apparently Fluet had forgotten the kitchen. Maybe he wanted to fix himself a snack after he burned us all to a crisp. The image of Fluet biting into a piece of meat pie over an unidentifiable charred body made me lose my appetite. Damn, and I had wanted to try that custard!

"Dodds!"

Zac's shout broke my reverie; I zipped towards where he was crouching behind a counter and knelt down next to him. "I am getting _really_ sick of this guy," I said.

"No shit, me too," Zac replied sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "But I've got a plan." My spirits lifted a little; a plan was definitely better than running around like a headless chicken. Not to mention, Zac was often compared with Shikamaru in our circle of friends. He was kind of lazy, and didn't seem to care about much, but he had a mind sharper than a katana.

And so, his face totally blank, he lifted up… a tea kettle. When I recovered from my facevault, I could see steam rising from it and realized that the water inside must be boiling hot.

"I'll throw this at him as a distraction. If we're lucky it'll put out the fire surrounding him and give him a few burns as well. Then I'll rush in and fillet him. If that doesn't finish him off, use your magic on him. But _not_ Fire," he said, glowering at me to emphasize his point.

"Aww, but whyyyyy?"

"Because he's obviously got some resistance to Fire!" Zac snapped, and as depressed as it made me, Zac's reasoning was sensible. "Use Thunder instead!"

"But it's not fun! There's not that comforting warmth that makes me feel so special!" I must a hand to my chest dramatically, trying to sway him to my side. To no avail.

"Fine then. You can get roasted to extra-crispy in this comforting warmth of yours. Then you'll be Special #4."

"So long as I'm kosher! IN AMERICA!!"

That earned me another eye-roll. "You're hopeless. Do you not realize you're about to fucking DIE?!"

Whoa there. Zac didn't use profanity all that much; it managed to sober me up somewhat, and I stood. "All right, I'll go along with this plan of yours. But if it doesn't work out I'm using Fire."

"Ugh, whatever," Zac conceded as he rose next to me. Not surprising; a barrage of crack usually wears down even the most stubborn of opponents. If there's one thing I've learned, it's that.

The both of us bolted towards the kitchen door at the same time; Zac barged through first and came out swinging. The teapot sailed through the air, the liquid inside getting superheated from the dancing flames. Finally its arc of flight was completed; after meeting a slight resistance from the force field, it punched through and exploded right on Fluet's head.

"Ah! My face! It burns!"

The water splashed outward and doused his fiery aura until there were only a few embers at his feet. Fluet grabbed at his face futilely, the fight with us forgotten. Quick as a flash, Zac closed the distance between him and Fluet, looking scarily like his mentor, the so-called Angel of Death. He hardly even paused when he reached the Sage; his sword flashed thrice, and my friend the Assassin landed gracefully behind Fluet, his work complete.

Fluet staggered sharply but somehow stayed on his feet. Three vicious viridian lines marked his body: one horizontally across his chest, another going diagonally from his left shoulder to just below his right hip, and a final one that sliced across the middle of his thighs.

"So Zorro is your role model now?"

"Just kill him, will ya?" Zac shot back, but when he looked at me he had a grin. An identical grin grew on my face, and I raised my right hand to the sky, feeling a mysterious connection with the storm clouds that were roiling above our heads. I brought my hand down like the blade of the guillotine, and a massive bolt of lightning ripped through the ceiling and struck Fluet dead-on. He didn't even have time to give a death-rattle, and there was nothing left of him when the light faded.

"…Whoa. Bad-_ass_!" I said, laughing a little at the flood of power. Man, I was sorry that I had neglected Thunder all this time. On the spur of the moment, I dropped to my knees and stretched my arms towards the heavens.

"Thunder, please forgive me! I deeply regret forsaking the power you proffered to me! GRANT ME YOUR STRENGTH!!"

Zac smacked his forehead in the background. "Dear God, I hope you _never_ get Bolting. I need new friends…"

**

* * *

Maddie**

Our battle complete, we somehow tracked down the owner of the hot springs and tried to pay him for the damage we'd caused to his inn. It took almost all of the gold that we had on us, and he also made us promise to never, _ever _set foot on his property again. Unfortunately, this meant we were sleeping outside again. Fortunately, it meant that I could get to Hanna easier instead of searching every single room in the inn. The look of surprise on her wrinkled visage when I finally cornered her almost dissipated my irritation with her. Almost.

"Hanna, I want an explanation! Twice now we've almost been killed!"

"Calm yourself, child—"

"FUCK THAT!"

Her black eyes widened and for a moment I thought I'd given her a stroke. Then she narrowed her gaze until she was practically glaring at me. "Such language! Perhaps I won't tell you anything after all."

She huffed and made to retreat back into Merlinus's cart, but I stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. "Look, I'm sorry. But do you have any idea how frustrating this situation is for me?"

Hanna looked over her shoulder and sighed. "Very well.

"As you may have guessed, this world and yours exist in two separate dimensions, or planes. Separating these planes is a massive sea of chaos and darkness known as the Rift. Only those studied in psychic arts—such as myself—are able to cross it or transfer others to the different planes. Usually only three people must be brought across at a time, such as I did with you and your friends.

"However, it is not enough to simply toss a person across the Rift and hope for the best. Measures must be taken to protect them from the poltergeists and djinns that have formed out of the sea of chaos. And I am afraid that in my old age, my protective spell… slipped slightly on this last run."

My eyes narrowed and I glanced over my shoulder. Whitney and Raquel were talking to Canas; the Shaman was holding a horse by its reins and introducing Whitney to it. Apparently he had taken a fancy to our new Troubadour. Raquel had acquired a bow and had it slung casually over her shoulder. My two friends laughed and Canas blushed at some comment I hadn't heard.

But that was the thing… there were only _two_ friends this time around. I may hate math, but I know that two does not equal three.

"You lost someone in the Rift," I ground out through clenched teeth. My eyes blazed as I turned to face Hanna again.

"Well, not exactly. It was more like she was abducted…"

"Oh, that's a hell of a lot better!"

"Keep quiet!" Hanna shushed me and I put a lid on my anger. "It's highly likely that she was taken by the very entities we are facing now. These 'Cards' are not human at all, but have formed from the chaos into sentient beings. Ordinarily they would be content with remaining in the Rift, but there has been a change… a shifting of the planes.

"The worlds are merging. Very soon the Rift shall be gone entirely, and these creatures of chaos will no longer have a home. It seems their goal, then, is to destroy this world and return it to the sea of chaos from which all things came."

I rubbed my temples. "Great. Fantastic. Anything else I should know? Am I gonna die in seven days?"

"Be serious!" I was silenced again. "Of course not. As this battle demonstrated, you and your friends are crucial to defeating the Cards!"

"Well if we're so crucial, why did you lose one? And who was it, anyway?"

Hanna put a hand to her chin. "I didn't catch her name… but she was rather short. With long blond hair in a braid… blue eyes, very keen and penetrating… and she had the most maniacal grin I've ever seen on a person."

I groaned. "It _was_ Darian. Of all the people in the world… and knowing her, she won't be satisfied as just a captive."

"She won't?"

"Nope. She'll want to take over the whole damn operation!"

Hanna gasped and put a hand over her mouth in shock. "Oh, dear. How exactly did you become friends again?"

"It's a _**long**_ story. But maybe there's a chance we could sway her to our cause." _About as likely as a snowball surviving in Hell, but it's a shot._

Suddenly the events of the day caught up with me; I let loose with a jaw-cracking yawn and stretched my arms skyward. "I need to sleep on this. Thanks for the information, Hanna."

She simply nodded and vanished behind the blue curtain on Merlinus's cart. The ground was pliant beneath my feet as I trekked further into the woods. Above my head, a canopy of stars shyly peeked through the leaves on the trees. The urge to wander crept into my mind, and I bypassed the cluster of tents.

It only took a few steps until I was out of the circle of firelight; as my eyes adjusted to the darkness I made out the silhouette of Hyperion intruding in the framework of trees. Somehow I knew instinctively that Heath would be there as well.

"Hey," I said gently, and the streak of silver in his hair glinted in the moonlight as he sat up.

"Hey," he replied, and I could see the corners of his mouth tug upwards into a smile. There was a moment of awkwardness as we both remembered our encounter earlier that day. Funny thing… it seemed like so long ago now.

"So, um… what's new?" He asked, obviously grasping at straws.

"Oh, not much. Creatures of chaos trying to destroy the world, said world merging with my homeland, oh, and my friend just joined the Dark Side. You know, the usual."

Heath blinked, then chuckled. "You've got some weird friends."

"Tell me about it."

I plopped down next to him and patted Hyperion's tail. The magnificent beast nudged my shoulder gently in return. We both looked up at the stars, all romantic-like, except that instead of having an inner calm come over me, my emotions had decided to re-create the battle of Thermopylae. Regrettably for me, in these situations I tend to blurt out the first thing that I get a positive vibe from.

"Do you mind if I sleep here tonight?"

_**BOW-CHICKA-BOW—**_

_Oh, can it! _

"Um, no, it's fine… I was, er, kind of thinking the same thing, actually…"

Ever had somebody give a response to your question that was so unexpected it makes your brain short-circuit? Yeah. That's what happened to me right then.

_Man, maybe it's a good thing that Darian isn't here right now… something tells me she would kill the mood in a heartbeat._

**

* * *

Elsewhere… **

"A-CHOOOO!!"

"I'm sensing a running joke in the works…"

"It seems so… Someone will pay for this…"

"With what—their soul or their head?"

"Both."

**

* * *

Sick of these scene changes yet?**

Heath rummaged around in his satchel for a blanket while I cleared a space on the ground. Fatigue began creeping into my bones again, and as I lay down I felt Hyperion curl his tail around me like a protective barrier.

"Alas! A cornucopia of love…" I said, already half-asleep and fading fast.

"What was that?" Heath said as he wormed his way next to me. But his words seemed fuzzy and incoherent, and he was so warm… So… wonderful…

* * *

Well, there you have it. Read, review, favorite, alert, whatever. Flamers will face the wrath of The Darian. It's your funeral.


	7. Crimson Flashback

Wow, surprise, surprise. I've actually updated BEFORE the date that I set for myself. Usually it's the complete opposite...

So here I sit, sleep-deprived, thanks, once again, to Darian's prodding. But it's worth it! This chapter contains a lot of flashbacks that jump around willy-nilly, as indicated by the extensive usage of italics. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy.

And so, without further ado, I give you the sixth chapter of Triple Entente.

_-_LE (lockheedelektra)

_

* * *

_

_The snow crunched under my feet and made my ankles sting. Around us the evergreen trees were dusted with sugary snow and glazed with icicles. Everything had been crystallized until it sparkled. Tiny snowflakes, like pearls, floated to earth, completely detached from our party. It was cold, cruel beauty, and save for our footsteps it was silent as the grave._

_My breath made a fog in front of me, and when it cleared away a village loomed out from between hills of snow. It was still an uphill trek towards it, and I forced my numb limbs to move. Beneath a frozen layer of skin my thigh muscles burned. We were all weary—from the cold, from hunger, from fatigue. This town would be a welcome haven from the gorgeous death trap of the outdoors. _

_But when I stepped again, instead of a crisp crunching noise, I heard a watery slush. I looked down, to see that the pristine white had been infiltrated by a streamlet of bright blood. The thin air froze in my lungs and turned my blood to ice as a shriek split the atmosphere._

* * *

"The Madam wants to see you, miss."

The boy's effeminate voice struck me first; then it was his magenta hair. He was slender, and quite… pretty, for lack of a better word. He could have been mistaken for a very tall twelve-year-old girl. His gray eyes seemed large and innocent, and I felt a flash of pity for him. The poor kid had probably been forced into this business.

That business being a brothel.

Then his words actually registered in my mind; I nodded gently and hopped off the barstool I was sitting on. This outpost for the oldest profession was really more of a tavern/whorehouse. Downstairs were a restaurant and a bar, and upstairs were the rooms where the ladies "worked". Of course, that didn't keep the girls from filtering downstairs for a little advertising.

Then again, there weren't just women working here. Like the kid—I had spotted rope burns on his wrists when he first spoke to me. I followed him through the rowdy crowd, passing by ruddy faces red with drink. Some of the members of our party were making merry as well, though a great majority of the women had already left for the inn we were staying at. My upbringing had ruled that I should never, _ever_ leave food on a plate—starving kids in Africa, and all that—so I was still hanging around and picking at my chunk o' ham when the boy approached me.

The boy directed me through a doorway and up a narrow stairwell; we passed a few doors—no doubt the rooms used for "business"—as we walked down the dimly lit hallway, and I pondered on what the Madam could possibly want with me. Something told me it wasn't to ask my opinion on where to get the cheapest soundproofing. Even though they could really use it.

_Crap, I'm not being recruited, am I? I'm sure I'm not hot enough…_

Finally we reached the end of the hallway. The boy opened the door for me and bowed his head respectfully. "She'll see you in just a few minutes." I thanked him and entered the room, which was a moderately sized… office? Pretty professional for a lady-pimp.

The heavy oak door clicked shut behind me, and I wandered a few steps into the space cautiously. There was a thick red carpet on the floor—I tried not to think of 'shag carpet' puns—and a cherry wood desk sat against the far wall. A peacock quill rested delicately in a bottle of ink, and parchment was stacked neatly in the center of the desk. Sconces on the wall provided flickering light, and an exquisite golden candelabra was hanging from the ceiling; a pleasant scent, like cinnamon, reached me and I realized it was coming from the candle on the desk.

All was perfectly silent in the serene office, but then a door in the far left corner opened and the most beautiful woman I had ever laid eyes on strode confidently into the room. Her hair was Godiva-long, and a lustrous raven black. Her skin was a mocha color, like an 18th century Creole. Voluptuous curves were covered with a thin layer of black silk—yet the dress she was wearing was dignified, not revealing or suggestive at all. Instead it tantalized you. A sliver of leg, glimpsed through the slit in her skirt. The top of the swell of her ample bosom. And the way she carried herself—so confident, so elegant, utterly sophisticated. She had such a powerful presence, and coupled with her stunning beauty it was overpowering to me.

This whole picture registered in the time it took her to take three steps into the room. Her pace slowed as she apparently felt my presence, and then smoldering crimson eyes slid over to stare directly at me. I was entrapped instantly in that glowing scarlet gaze, unable to move, hardly able to think. I gulped, swallowing the dry lump in my throat. She began walking towards me, and I had never realized how seductively a woman's hips could swing until then.

A smirk curled her full lips and she tossed her luxurious hair over her shoulder. Her slender fingers lingered over the nape of her neck, drawing my attention to a miniscule pattern of ink drawn there. I unconsciously squinted to get a better look at it—knowing full well that it made me look very un-sexy. As it turned out, looking closer was much more important than looking attractive. The tattoo was of a Q resting inside a heart.

My breath hitched and suddenly the paralysis whooshed out of my limbs. I looked at her eyes again, but instead of gleaming with erotic promise they twinkled with malice and evil. Then a veil that had dropped over my mind lifted, and I saw the truth. This was undeniably the Queen of Hearts.

I took a step back towards the door, and she abruptly halted. However, instead of being entranced by the minute bounce of her breasts as she did so, I was envious that mine couldn't do that. I must have looked like a damn fool when she had me under her spell.

"…Impressive," she said in a voice smoother than velvet. A voice that was designed to whisper things beneath sheets. "Your name is Madeleine, isn't it?"

I hate it when people use my full name. _Hate it _with passion unequaled. It helped keep me sharp; her voice had almost made my mind hazy again. "Yeah, sure. Whaddaya want?" I tried to be as brusque as possible.

She inclined her head politely, not deigning to play that game. "You may call me Dame," the Madam intoned, her slinky voice making her French name sound like poetry. _Stay focused! CONSTANT VIGILANCE!!_

"Right. Now answer my question."

Dame tut-tutted softly under breath, but it didn't sound annoying, like with librarians when you spoke too loudly. "Don't be in such a rush, dear," she said, her voice at just above a whisper. She reached out and stroked my hair, and I jumped back slightly. How had she gotten so close? I'd have to start pinching myself to stay aware.

"I'd really appreciate it if you just get to the point," I said sharply.

She heaved a sigh, which lifted her bosom in a way that must have enticed many a man into bed. "Very well. I have a proposition for you. One that involves you and your friends… and a certain young man, of course."

My eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"

That smirk, as ephemeral as smoke, appeared again. "We will send you and your friends back home, free of charge. You can continue your lives there peacefully and never be bothered with killing and war ever again. And that Wyvern Lord of yours—Heath—he shall go with you. You could live with him, your own happily ever after. And all we ask is that you do not interfere with our plans. Simple, really."

I struggled to fill the holes in her plan. Heath and I weren't an _item_ or anything. We'd gotten closer, but it wasn't as though he courted me and bought me little favors to show his undying affection. That was what they did in this age, right?

So why… why was something stirring in my chest at the thought of it? Together with my friends, safe and happy again. And with someone I could—maybe, eventually—call my own. I'd stopped trying to have a boyfriend after Joe and I broke up. Would it be so bad to try again, after five years of denying myself? And if it somehow worked out…

"So what do you say?"

A bead of sweat ran down my temple. To leave or not to leave, that was the question…

_

* * *

We raced through the gates of the town, which had been forced open until they were hunks of twisted iron. The snow had gone from bright vermillion to a saturated garnet, but the snowflakes still fell from the sky, unaware of the carnage they witnessed. We halted as we reached the town square, and I felt my stomach retch from the scent of death. Bodies were scattered among the square, limbs thrown in unnatural positions, tongues lolling from mouths, white eyes rolled back in pale heads. _

_But there were two—no, three—figures still living at the very center of the painted-crimson square. One was tall, hidden by a long cloak trimmed with gold. The other was relatively short, and was standing with her boot perched atop a man's chest. The man was quivering in complete and abject fear. His voice, thunderous in his panic, carried across the square. _

"_M-Mercy… p-p-please!"_

"_Sorry. We're fresh out of mercy."_

_In one swift movement, she jabbed her epée through his left eye. His body jerked for a few moments, then went sickeningly still. The girl took a black handkerchief from her pocket and wiped the blood, gray matter, and cornea from her blade, then swiped away the gore that had splattered on her clothes. She turned slightly as she did so, and I saw a golden braid trailing down her back. My throat closed and tears stung my eyes as it dawned on me who the ruthless murderer was. _

"_Darian!" I shouted, my voice cracking into a falsetto. Her head turned first, glancing over her shoulder, and then she spun on her heel to face me fully. There was a flicker of recognition in her icy eyes, but then they closed off and were as cold as the snow that still cascaded down. _

"_Ephidel," she said softly, but she could have been speaking into a megaphone for how clearly I heard her. "It's those bothersome do-gooders again. What shall we do?"_

_Before he could respond, a roar came from Hector. "Ephidel?! You're supposed to be dead! Nergal threw you through the Dragon's Gate!"_

"_Well, obviously I'm not dead. As a matter of fact, I emerged from the Dragon's Gate feeling better than ever." Ephidel grinned, and then slowly pulled back the hood on his cloak. A collective gasp went up from the group as they saw the tiny white horns emerging from his thick mass of black hair. _

"_What the hell—" Surprisingly, the shout had come from Eliwood. _

"_Hm. However, I don't feel inclined to deal with you all at the moment," he said, somewhat haughtily, then looked down to Darian with golden eyes. "Will that be satisfactory?" _

_Darian sighed, but acquiesced. "Very well. Playtime's done, anyways." _

_The man nodded, then crouched slightly. Something on his back struggled to escape from the cape he was wearing; then his cape erupted into strands of black thread, revealing massive ebony dragon wings. _

"_Isn't he pretty?" Darian cooed, making Ephidel snort in derision. "Just get on." He muttered. Darian hopped onto his back and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Her maniacal grin—that familiar grin that seemed so strange now—flashed at me from across the courtyard. Ephidel pushed off, and with a few flaps of his wings they were airborne and sailing away from us. Darian tossed two items down just before they cleared the square, and on impulse I ran towards them. _

_I would have missed them if the snow hadn't been stained red. They sat innocently atop the frigid substance, their pure milky color mocking the massacre that had just taken place. The black ink that marked the cards seemed painfully precise. I bit my tongue as I stared at the rectangles of paper. I'd known this would happen, but it was still so hard to believe._

_In my hand I held the Ten of Clubs and the Ten of Spades. _

* * *

"And Darian… what about her?"

Dame blinked. Apparently she hadn't been expecting anything other than agreement with whatever she said. "You mean the Ten of Clubs? What about her?"

Despite the situation, I felt the corners of my mouth tug upwards. "Heh. Well, Dame, that pretty much cements it."

"Pardon?" She said, her svelte features turning inquisitive and slightly confused. I looked back up at her, suddenly feeling a swell of confidence. Our eyes locked, but this time I wasn't drawn into viridian irises.

"I decline. If there's anything I've learned about happy endings, it's that they don't come along so easily."

Her shocked expression almost made me giggle, but instead I opted for being a smartass. I began ticking off more reasons on my fingers. "And, y'see, I've kinda grown attached to some of the people in this world. It would kinda suck if they were cast into oblivion or whatever. Not to mention, what the hell kinda protagonist would I be if I just let you destroy an entire plane of existence? Not a very good one, lady."

I paused here and took in Dame's expression. She was livid. A lovely blush had rushed to her face. I wasn't one for pissing people off just for the hell of it, but I could definitely see why people made it a hobby. But aside from that, I still had a point to make.

"And then, of course, there's the Ten of Clubs we talked about. She might have switched over to the Dark Side, but…" I exhaled, flashing back to the scene at the village. She was so far gone. But there had been that flicker… that small sign of the Darian I used to know.

"She's still my friend. And I won't leave her behind. Not her, or anyone else."

Dame's bottom lip quivered. She clearly wanted to say something, but her cordial manner was keeping her from spitting it out. I smiled perkily and shrugged, knowing that it would push just the right button. I was in all likelihood playing with fire here, but I couldn't seem to care.

"So, like, I'll just be going now. Bye!"

I spun around and pushed open the door in one smooth motion, leaving the Queen of Hearts behind in her agog state. My confidence was still running high when I reached the stairs, but something about descending them brought me back to reality. What the fuck was I thinking?! I had just royally pissed off one of the most powerful beings in either of the planes! My legs felt like jelly as adrenaline wore off and nerves took over. My hand trembled on the railing and I swore at myself. _Keep it together, yo. Just stay calm._

The wooden floor of the bottom level greeted me all too soon, and I paused to look around for any remaining members of our group. Sain and Kent were seated at the bar—but funnily enough, Kent seemed to be the drunken one this time. Otherwise he wouldn't have been sobbing on Sain's shoulder like that.

I tapped the green-armored Cavalier and fed him something about Lyndis not being able to sleep and wanting someone to talk to. He was out of the establishment in a flash, and luckily his sense of duty made him drag the inebriated Kent along.

_Okay, so now the only ones left are…_

Ugh. Make that the only _one _left. I rolled my hazel eyes ceilingward. Of course it would have to be him. I just couldn't catch a break today.

I crept as inconspicuously as I could towards the table where Heath was sitting, with—_**Awwwwkwaaard!**_—a prostitute in his lap. I felt my face start to do its best impression of a ripe tomato as Heath's tongue flickered across the shell of the girl's ear. He purred something unintelligible and she tittered with laughter.

My eye began twitching uncontrollably and I had to will it to stop. _You will be professional. You will get his bastard ass out of here. You DO NOT care about him that way. You will be professional. _

"A-_hem_."

Heath currently had his face buried in the crook of the girl's neck, but his emerald eyes slid lazily up to look at me. Even through his hair I could see the slight haze that had formed on them. Drunk. And loose as a goose, by the looks of it.

_**Did you just say, "loose as a goose"?**_

_Shut up. _

"S'up?" He slurred, his baritone soothing even now. I pursed my lips and grabbed the prostitute's arm. Ignoring her protests, I tugged her off his lap and got her a good distance away. "We gotta leave," I said shortly and heaved Heath up from his sitting position. An irregularity in the wrinkles in his pants drew my attention, but then I instantly averted my eyes, blushing furiously.

_**Ah, a big boy in more ways than one!**_

_I told you to SHUT UP!_

"Whu's wrong?" He stumbled over the ground as I escorted him out of the brothel. I felt his nose brush my hair and picked up the scent of alcohol on him. "You smell good," he breathed.

I didn't respond, knowing that he wouldn't remember anything he said. It was pointless to fool myself. "Nothing's wrong," I said, though more gently than before. "It's just getting late. We've got to get up early tomorrow."

He groaned in distaste for our necessary schedule, but said no more. As our feet fell on the cobblestone street—Heath's a bit more heavily than mine—he spoke up again. "Y're pretty."

"No offense, Heath, but can it."

"I mean it!" He exclaimed indignantly, and wheeled away from me. "Y're way prettier 'n that girl," he jerked his thumb towards the brothel, "An' I'm not just sayin' that! Y'know, sometimes I have theshe dreamsh—"

"Okay then!" I re-seized Heath and forcibly closed his jaw. "It's bedtime for you, buddy." I laughed nervously and tried not to show how horridly embarrassed I was.

"Well, are'ya comin' with me?"

I believe I said, "what" to that, but it sounded more like a squeak. Heath took that as a 'no' and waved his arms emphatically. "Well, screw that then!"

Luckily for my poor unfortunate soul, we had reached the inn, and I managed to drag Heath inside and up to one of the rooms we'd reserved. The Wyvern Lord was unceremoniously shoved into his room, and I stomped off to my own, which I was sharing with Raquel. As soon as I'd entered the safe haven, I leaned against the door and sighed heavily.

Of course, Raquel had always been painfully observant and intuitive about other people's situations. And while I wasn't one to try to push people's buttons, Raquel most definitely was. She took one look at my flushed face and split into a grin that made her look like the spawn of Satan.

"So… how far did ya get? Third base? Am I right?"

I covered my face with my hands and groaned. This was officially the longest night of my life.

**

* * *

The Darian**

I kneel to no one. You hear me? _No one._ I do not bow my head, I do not submit, I do not take orders from anyone.

My legs were just tired. That was all. Otherwise I would most definitely not be kneeling before the scum who dared call himself my superior. Even now I could feel his obsidian eyes staring down at my back, flaunting his arrogance at having obtained a higher rank than I. _Soon, little Jackie. Soon I shall exact my revenge._

"You've been given new orders, Ten of Clubs."

"Dandy," I ground out, but the sarcasm didn't faze him. He simply smiled patronizingly down at me.

"We want you to kill…"

_Ugh, again with the killing. No imagination around these parts. _

"Yeah, sure, got it," I replied swiftly, having digested the commands Jackson had fed me even while I was only half-listening. They were essentially the same orders he'd given me before, just with different names and locations plugged into the equation. How bothersome.

I didn't spare him a single glance as I strutted out the door of the Clubs' chamber; just as I entered the main hallway, the heavy steel door that lead to the Spades' chamber opened and Ephidel emerged, scowling. He'd mystically produced a new cloak and hood, but his familiar golden eyes still gleamed at me.

"What a bunch of cretins…" he muttered to me as we began making our way down the hall to the main antechamber. "Thinking they can order me around like a dog."

"I concur," I responded. "So what did they request of you?"

His frown deepened. "They want me to go back to Nergal's lair and retrieve some artifact that the old curmudgeon had. Ridiculous."

"Hm. They want me to assassinate someone again."

Ephidel rolled his luminescent eyes. "Oh, life is _so hard _for you."

"Hey, the sarcasm is my gig!"

"You've rubbed off on me. More than I'm comfortable with, actually."

"Anytime, Ephy! Anytime."

"Don't call me that."

I bit the inside of my cheek to hold back my insane laughter. He was just so fun to taunt. That had been apparent even the first time we met each other.

* * *

"_What is this rumpus?"_

_The booming voice that shook the walls and sent vibrations through my chest cavity almost made me stop flailing in my captor's grip. Almost. But as soon as the echoes faded away, I was right back at it. _

"_You fucking goddamn assholes better fucking tell me what the hell is goin' on or I'm gonna rip your fucking bitch-ass cocks off and shove them down your motherfucking throats you GOD DAMN BASTARD ASSHATS!!"_

_The figure who had spoken was obscured by shadows, but I could hear the amused note in his voice. "The girl's got spirit. Quite intriguing." _

"_I'LL SHOW YOU SPIRIT—"_

_My cries were muffled as the curly-haired boy clamped his hand over my mouth. In retaliation I bit down as hard as I could. "Grr! I'm a vampire!" _

_He merely raised an eyebrow at me, seemingly oblivious to the fact that his hand was bleeding copiously. "Right. And I'm Frankenstein." _

_I grinned. Poor fool didn't know it, but he'd just handed me some dynamite. "Really? I have to say, the resemblance is striking!" _

"_What was that?!" He snarled, but he was hushed by the shadowed figure. Inwardly I roiled with laughter. _

"_Calm yourself, Jackson. I believe we may be able to make this girl an ally." _

_My ears pricked at that and I focused my shouts at the outline of this mysterious authoritarian. "Oh yeah? And what makes you think that I'm just going to slide on over to your side, huh?"_

_His smirk was audible, and I could sense him leaning forward slightly. "Tell me… how do you feel about harnessing the power of darkness?" _

…_My one weakness. Dammit! "I am the darkness, you fool!"_

"_Excellent. We'll get you some new clothes and a weapon straight away." I began to splutter a protest, but the figure waved his hand in dismissal and Jackson hauled me over to the doorway and very ungracefully kicked me out. I whirled around like a tornado ready to unleash its fury on unsuspecting little Kansas, but the door had already slammed in my face. _Rawr! Where's laser vision when you need it?

_Another chuckle came from the shadows in the hallway—and by this time I was getting really damn sick of vague, obscured figures giggling at my frustration. I pivoted, ready to release my wrath at whoever had dared laugh at me—_

_And I was met with a wall of cloth. Black cloth. Trimmed in gold. _I. Hate. Being. Short._ I craned my head upwards and saw gem-like eyes gleaming in the dark. They were set in an aristocratic face, though the top half of it was masked by his hood. But still—I had never seen eyes so captivating. _

"_And you are?" He said politely. I shook my head to snap out of my stupor and backed away apace. "I could ask you the same question," I snapped, "running around the halls and sneaking up on girls. What are you, a serial rapist or something?"_

_His eye narrowed and he must have been frowning. "I assure you I'm not. I'm Ephidel, the Ten of Spades. I've been told that you'll be my new partner." _

_I snorted. "Well, that's a hell of a lot more than they've told me. Heads are gonna roll tonight…" I murmured, half to myself. But Ephidel's hearing must have been especially keen, because he'd overheard me. "My, are you always this unstable?" _

"_Yes. I am indeed a total bitch. And if you can't handle it it's your problem." I said, stomping past him and trying to look like I knew where the hell I was going. He let out a sound that sounded almost like a growl and called back after me, "Who said I couldn't handle it?" With a few quick strides he'd caught up to me. Damn him with his long legs and long strides! _

"_You are aware," he drawled, having regained his cool, "that this way leads to a dead end." _

"…_Of course. I was testing you. It seems you're not such a nincompoop after all."_

_Even though I couldn't see his temples, I swear I saw a vein pulse in one of them. Boy, I was good. _I should pat myself on the back for that one.

"_Well, do you have some purpose here or are you just wandering around like you're daft?" He retorted, spitting out the words. I jabbed my finger at his chest. "I'll have you know, buddy, that I was in all Honors classes back home!"_

"…_Honors?"_

"_Yeah! For the highly intelligent, _gifted _individuals! Not that you'd know anything about that." _

_I tossed my head nonchalantly, feeling my braid connect with his cheek, and strode away from Ephidel. _Owned by the braid, dummkopf. _For a few seconds he stood there, aghast, but then I heard his boots clacking on the floor as he caught up to me once more. Poor bloke just couldn't let it go. This was very entertaining indeed. _

"_Look, you idiot girl, I'm trying to be genial. But if you don't cooperate I'll hack off that braid of yours."_

_I froze in mid-step and glared at Ephidel with every ounce of power I possessed. "You wouldn't dare," I enunciated, every syllable dripping with venom. He didn't balk, didn't even flinch; he just gazed down at me with those eyes… those gold eyes that looked just as amused as mine had. There was a moment of silence and I couldn't sustain my threat any longer. I turned to him fully and set my hands on my hips, examining him more closely. _Hmmm… with a little eyeshadow, he could pass for Orochimaru…

"_Maybe we've gotten off on the wrong foot," I said, and that, more than anything I'd said before, threw him for a loop. He blinked twice, then looked down to where I'd extended my hand for a shake. "My name is Darian Peterson. Apparently I'm the Ten of Clubs." _

_He paused for a second more, and then a smirk tweaked his lips upward. He shook my hand—his palm warm and dry—and released it at just the proper moment. There was a heartbeat of silence again, and then:_

"_If you're expecting me to repeat my name, forget it. If you were too stupid to get it the first time I'm not going to bother."_

_And with that he breezed past me, leaving me with my increasingly murderous thoughts. My fingers itched and I spun around before making a running leap onto his back. _

_

* * *

Ah, yes… then came the wrestling moves. _I chuckled to remember it. If only Ephidel had gone to Jefferson, he would have known how to defend against The Cradle. Unluckily for him, he'd had a bruise on his forehead for weeks. And on his pride. I love the smell of ruined egos in the morning. 

"What are you going on about now?" Ephidel inquired, quirking his eyebrow at me again. I waved and shook my head slightly. "Oh, I was just remembering the time we first met."

"Ah… yes." Ephidel's hand went reflexively to his forehead. "I remember it _well_."

"Awww, does ickle Ephy need an Advil?"

"I told you to never call me that."

"What's wrong, Ephy-kuuuuuun?"

He heaved a sigh. "I am aware that we are supposed to be 'the bad guys', but you are just pure evil, Darian."

I grinned back up at him, laughter bubbling up from my throat. Yep. He was still just so much fun to tease.

"Though about those people from the mountain village… I didn't recognize some of them. What's your connection to them?"

His question emerged from the blue, and I blinked at him quizzically before looking down again towards the floor. "…They're nobodies," I said, attempting to maintain an even tone of voice.

"You're lying," Ephidel pronounced deftly. "They are somebodies… at least to you."

"Stop with the Kingdom Hearts references," I growled, knowing full well that Ephidel wouldn't comprehend it. Maybe it would throw him off the trail, since he was always so eager to acquire knowledge about my home plane. Regrettably, he was not dissuaded.

"Who are they?" He pressed.

I glared at him and swallowed the words that wanted to spill out from my mouth. I couldn't tell him that they had been—and still were—my comrades. That they had witnessed our massacre bothered me—but then, that's Lady Luck being a bitch, again. If they'd just arrived a few minutes earlier, they would have known that we weren't responsible for all those deaths. The corrupt officials in the town had formed some macabre cult; when they learned we were approaching, they summoned all their subordinates to the square for a mass suicide. Half were already dead when we got there. The rest of the innocents we scared off… and then we released our wrath on the craven mountebanks. And then the blood truly ran unbridled.

My friends' timing could be likened to arriving at a movie theater only to discover that you only catch the last five minutes of the movie. You're left wondering what the hell was going on and you could have a completely different image of the story than the person who stayed for the whole two hours. As such, their version of the town massacre was quite estranged from the truth. And something about that left a horrid taste on my tongue.

I sighed and looked away from Ephidel again. "It's not of any importance. Don't you have more pressing matters to worry about?"

"Not really," he remarked, but he said no more about the topic of my former friends. I bit the inside of my lip as I stared into the black abyss of the tunnel. This organization, for one reason or another, wanted to pit me against people I once called my allies. Their motives were still unclear to me, since they hadn't seen fit to inform me of such trivial facts. I would have to do some research of my own if I wanted to get to the dank, foul-smelling bottom of this mystery.

* * *

Is it just me, or does everybody get drunk in my fic? It seems like every chapter there's a person drunk...

Anyways, read, review, rave. Flamers will be turned into undead and used in a zombie pirate army to take over the world. So, actually, flame away, people! We need some fresh recruits...


	8. You Give Me Fever

Greetings and hello. As you may have guessed from the chapter title, this installment contains some... lime. Or grapefruit. Whatever the hell sort of fruit is associated with innuendo and sexual tension. You get the idea...

Hence, if you're one of my close friends or family (I'm looking at YOU, FireballJack), for the sake of my dignity I'll ask you to skip over those parts. Of course, if you really want to read them, I can't stop you, but I don't wanna hear about it on Monday, savvy?

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Fire Emblem, nor do I own Michael Buble's version of _Fever. _Or Maroon 5's _Kiwi_.

And so, without further ado, I give you the eighth chapter of Triple Entente.

-LE (lockheedelektra)

_

* * *

Torture. That's what this was. _

_His hands, those clever hands, roved up the back of my thighs. He entwined our legs, pushed me harder against the wall. I felt his palms slide over the curves of my rear, then up my back until his fingers twined around my hair and pulled back my head. My scalp stung, but it was nothing to the lips trailing down my throat, the teeth nipping gently at my white skin. _

_Our clothes were stifling. They were an abrasion, an annoyance that kept our skin from touching and reaching completion. Yet he continued to take his sweet time, tracing a line of fire over my jaw with his lips. Then those two blushing pilgrims brushed against my own, and a spark jumped between us. _

_And then oceans of air weren't enough, because his mouth had pressed to mine and his scent crashed over me like waves breaking. I was drowning in the smell of crisp wind and pine needles. His hands swept down my form again and he tugged my thigh up so that my leg wrapped around his waist. Finally he seemed to realize that we had to be closer, closer, or the heat would consume us both._

_My head spun, and he let me rise to the surface to gulp down precious oxygen. Shortness of breath made my chest heave against his, and my lips felt pink and raw. I managed to slide my downcast hazel eyes upwards to look at my torturer. I was met with a field of the brightest emerald green, shot through with a stroke of silver. Then he looked up to catch my gaze, and peridot irises gleamed like those of a jungle cat. _

_He leaned in once more…_

* * *

… And I felt my lumpy bedroll slowly kneading more knots into my back. 

_No, no, no, no… I'm not awake, I'm _not_…_

Dammit, I was. And that had been my most vivid sex dream to date! Friggidy!

I buried my face in my green tunic that I'd been using as a pillow and let out a muffled groan. One of the biggest letdowns in history is entering reality prematurely during a fabulous sex dream. Now the insides of my thighs felt sticky—actually, my whole body felt sticky because it had been so bloody hot last night. Our party was descending from the snowy peaks that formed the border between Lycia and Etruria into the scorching desert of Nabata. We were right at the point where the heat, but not the aridity, of the desert met the frozen moisture on the mountains. The result was worse than summer in Chicago: hot as Tabasco and humid enough to where it felt like you were breathing syrup.

As such, I was unable to sleep with my tunic on, so right now I was clad only in my cream-colored pants—which I'd pulled up to my knees—and my breast bindings. I was still uncomfortable, but it was the least I could wear while still being ready to pop up and fight.

Judging by the blue-gray light gently illuminating the tent, it was very early morning. At that point I just wanted to lay around for a few more minutes and daydream, maybe even fall back asleep and see if I could find my mystery dream-man again. But of course…

An arrow pierced the tent and landed not three inches away from the tip of my nose. I glared at it for a brief second, then sighed and stood up. Just another day at the office.

I whipped open the flaps of the tent and sidestepped to avoid a bolt of Thunder that was about to fry me. As soon as I did so, black tendrils shot out of the ground and wrapped around me in an orb. I patiently sat out the Flux spell; training sessions with Dodds had revealed that I had a higher Resistance to magic than most of the melee units. It wasn't as good as a Falcoknight's, of course, but it was nothing to sneeze at.

The orb briefly tightened and then dispersed; I quickly sought out the Shaman who'd attacked me and decked him square in the nose. I crushed his ribs beneath my foot once he was on the ground, but when I pulled my leg back, a point at the center of my chest suddenly felt white-hot. There wasn't enough time for me to escape the darts of Light magic that shot through my chest.

A dry cough forced its way up my throat; Light magic was particularly sneaky. It didn't leave any visible marks except for faint red spots where the darts had passed through, but my lungs felt like they were on fire. I was willing to bet that the heat from the darts was still cooking my insides.

My teeth ground together as I fought off the effects of the spell. Clarity returned as the pain faded; dodging blasts of Fire, I concluded that most of our enemy was magic users. Not only that; there was a hell of a lot of them, all jockeying to make mincemeat out of our party. While that could mean the kiss of death for some of our people, it was ideal for me. My sensei's word's echoed back to me:

"_Shōtōkan karate wasn't designed for one-on-one duels. It was designed to plow through a crowd of people as quickly and effectively as possible."_

I found the Mage who was attacking me, got right up in his face and swept him before he could react; once he was on the ground I stomped on his knee and felt it crunch under my heel. I spotted more light darts heading towards me; the world tilted as I crouched into a roll to avoid them. The blood rushing from my head when I righted myself made me stumble. _Mental note: make sure to eat breakfast when this is over…_

* * *

And so, numerous reverse punches, roundhouse kicks, and elbow strikes later, the sun was fully shining on the havoc we'd wreaked. On the other guys, of course. Thankfully we'd avoided major injuries; the leader of the squad of magic users was currently being interrogated by the three Lords. 

My adrenaline buzz had faded, so I rested my hands on my knees and took a few moments to catch my breath. Air whooshed in and out of my lungs in harsh pants. I remembered that you were supposed to keep your head above your heart after working out—or some other bullcrap like that—so I straightened and arched my back the other way, stretching my tense muscles. Just when I reached that point where the stiffness finally withers away, I became aware of a pair of eyes on me.

Well, make that multiple pairs.

At first I thought Whitney was looking at a spot past me. By the time I got to Sain, I was fairly certain by the look on his face that I was the focus of their attention. But it was still early for me, so I didn't realize _why_ I was being stared at until my eyes locked with Heath's. The spark in his eyes gave me a startling picture of how I must look: sweaty, out of breath… and shirtless.

"AVERT YOUR EYES!!"

* * *

About two hours later I was back in my normal clothes, but avoiding Heath like the plague. Thankfully, most everybody had the tact to keep from mentioning it; they were preoccupying themselves by packing up the camp. I was all set on that front, so for the moment I was squeezing the last moments of life from my little iPod. I was fairly certain it would die any day now, so I was blasting Benny Benassi to get the most out of it. 

Right in the middle of 'Satisfaction', the three Lords finally emerged from the interrogation tent. Hector flung the Sage they were questioning out of the tent like a sack of potatoes, and Eliwood seemed to be discussing something with Lyn. As the Sage scrambled away—helped along by a firm kick on the rump by Hector—Eliwood nodded and called everyone to him.

Sighing, I flicked off my modern music box and hauled myself towards them, making sure that I was on the opposite side of the congregation from wherever Heath was. "Listen up, everyone," Eliwood began, "The men who attacked us were from a Nabatan Lord called Ratatosk. They were informed that we were responsible for the assassination of one of Ratatosk's allies." He heaved a deep sigh, one that bespoke of years of weariness that his face never revealed. "In other words, we've been framed."

Well, wasn't that peachy. And here I thought the Middle Ages were supposed to be straightforward.

"So now we have to find Ratatosk and get this straightened out. We can't afford to be constantly ambushed like this."

The crowd gave general murmurs of agreement. Lyn picked up where Eliwood left out, her feminine yet strong voice carrying over our horde. "The problem is, we won't be able to get close to Ratatosk using a direct approach. So, does anyone have any ideas…?"

A few moments of silence drifted among us, and then none other than Matthew stepped forward. The grin on his face unnerved me slightly; a grin that mischievous on Matthew couldn't bode well for the rest of us hapless mortals.

"Pardon me, my lords, but I am a relatively experienced spy for House Ostia. And I'm fairly certain that no one will suspect a roving band of entertainers who just happen to be performing in front of this Ratatosk."

Matthew's ability to pronounce the guy's name correctly almost stunned me more than what he was suggesting. Hector regarded him suspiciously, but the other two Lords waited for him to elaborate. The Thief's grin grew wider.

"I'm suggesting that we go undercover."

* * *

Here's a tip: if you have to cross a desert the whole day long, stay close the supply cart. After the third time of sprinting through sand to catch up to it, I was sick of the whole business and stole an empty spot on the cart. I had just gotten settled when a voice beckoned me from deeper inside the cart. 

Whitney waved and motioned for me to come closer; I complied and headed into the shadowy recesses of the cart. As my eyes adjusted, I saw Whitney's blonde hair shining in the dark, as well as Canas's monocle. "Check this out!" The Troubadour said in an excited whisper, her sea-colored eyes gleaming. "Canas and I are working on a way to combine multiple Fire or Lightning spells. We could make Firaga! How cool is that?"

I felt myself smile. Whitney was truly a perpetual student, in a good way; unlike most kids our age, she was always eager to learn, to gobble up more knowledge. Now that I thought about it, she and Canas were like two peas in a pod.

"The results of this could be massive," Canas continued, gesturing at pages of a heavy book that was illuminated by candlelight. "Imagine: a spell as powerful as Elfire, but one that can be used by relatively inexperienced magic users. It would give us a significant edge against the competition." I could tell that he was just as whipped up about this as Whitney; I, however, was finding it hard to match their enthusiasm.

"That's great, guys… um… anything else I should know about…?" _Something I can actually understand, maybe?_

"Nope, that's it," Whitney said brightly, just as happy as could be. "Great!" I said, patting her on the shoulder, then made my exit back into the blinding light of the desert. As I sat on the ledge and squinted around, I picked up snippets of a conversation between our leading Lord and a turquoise-haired Dancer.

"Please, Lord Eliwood! I know I can help this time!"

"Ninian, I don't want to put you in harm's way. There's a chance that someone could recognize you as half dragon."

"I don't care!"

The silence between the two was audible after Ninian's outburst; then her gentle, melancholy voice filtered back to me again. "You risk your life for me almost every day, Eliwood. Why can't I do the same for you?"

There was the sound of someone dismounting a horse, and then Ninian climbed onto the cart beside me. She rested her elbows on her thighs and cradled her delicate face in her long-fingered hands; a sigh escaped her and I felt the sudden urge to give her a comforting pat. Instead I tried to think of something to say that wouldn't make me sound like an intrusive ass.

"… So… you, uh, want to help on this operation?" I said quietly. Ninian glanced up at me, then nodded sadly. "Yes. Sir Matthew said that we'd be going undercover as entertainers. I thought that I would be able to assist by posing as a performer." She heaved a sigh. "But Lord Eliwood doesn't want me to. And now I'm afraid that he's angry with me."

Now, I may have mentioned this before, but I'm not a troublemaker. Really. Most of the time I prefer to listen patiently instead of initiating some risky scheme. But every once in a while, I get an urge to create an Evil Master Plan. And right now I was getting a gut instinct to just run with it.

"Tell you what," I said. "I'll help you put together a performance for our act."

Ninian blinked, then her crimson eyes looked up at me in astonishment. "But what will Lord Eliwood say?"

I felt a crooked smirk tugging my lips upward. "Trust me. Once Lord Eliwood sees you out there, anger will be the _last_ thing on his mind." _Muahahahaha._

* * *

By nightfall we'd reached Anatolia, a mid-sized city in the center of the desert. Whoever would put a city in the middle of the desert was obviously off their rocker, but hey, I wasn't judging. Matthew and Legault, our two most silver-tongued allies, were working on getting us a time slot at some high-end club. In the end, we could only sneak in a couple of performances, but since only a couple of us had some talent other than fighting, that worked out quite well. Legault and Matthew would be using their sleight-of-hand skills to pose as magicians; Raquel would sing; Nils would play his flute as a soloist and then return to accompany our drummer, Hawkeye, while Ninian did her act. 

While we were all preparing, I was mildly shocked to see that Wil had cleaned himself up and was straightening what appeared to be a set of dress robes. "What're you all dolled up for?" I asked teasingly. The Sniper smiled in return. "Didn't you know? I'm performing tonight. I'm singing."

"Uh-oh. Should I invest in some earplugs?"

"I'm offended! I'm quite good, really. Besides—" he brushed some imaginary dust from his shoulder, "this is a good chance for me to… well…" He trailed off, and a dreamy haze swept over his eyes. I decided not to press, knowing that he was thinking about the cute little Archer with green braids. _Seems like more than one match will be made tonight…_

**

* * *

Wil**

I re-adjusted my turquoise jerkin for what must have been the tenth time in a half an hour; onstage, Matthew and Legault were taking their bows to raucous applause, while I was sweating behind the curtains. Dammit, why did they have to be such a tough act to follow? What if I seemed bland in comparison and she didn't like my singing?

The curtains were parted with a flourish and I stopped my pacing. Matthew winked at me as he passed. "We've got 'em warmed up for you, lover boy. Show that girl what you've got."

I sputtered at this, but he'd already gone; Legault offered only a grin and an encouraging pat on the shoulder, and then I was alone in the wings of the stage. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I told myself that this was my only chance. I _had_ to do this, or Rebecca would remain oblivious forever.

My footsteps seemed awkwardly loud as I walked to the center of the stage. People in the audience were engaging in their own little conversations, but they stopped when I cleared my throat. All eyes were on me, and for a brief second the nervousness made me forget what song I was going to sing, or even why I had come up here at all. And then, towards the back, I glimpsed the petite figure that took up so much of my thoughts.

Her pigtails still stuck out at odd angles from her head, and her youthful features bore a kind of anticipation tinged with excitement. Big doe emerald eyes were turned towards the stage… towards _me_. In a single moment, my purpose rushed back to me again, and the words began pushing out of my throat.

"_Never know how much I love you_

_Never know how much I care_

_When you put your arms around me_

_I get fever that's so hard to bear..._"

The amplifying spell that a Mage had put on the stage was working well; I could tell by Rebecca's faint blush that my voice was carrying to her. I kept my eyes locked on hers.

"_You give me fever—_

_When you kiss me, _

_Fever when you hold me tight_

_Fever—in the morning, _

_Fever all through the night…_"

Her blush intensified and she glanced downward shyly, but then her eyes crept back up to mine and I had to fight down a giddy grin. _Gah, she's adorable!_

"_The sun lights up the daytime_

_The moon lights up the night_

_I light up when you call my name_

_And you know I'm gonna treat you right_

_You give me fever…_"

Some of Matthew's mischievous attitude must have infected me, because I felt my eyelid shiver into a wink. Rebecca covered her mouth with her hands, and blushed so hard she looked like a ripe strawberry. The cutest, most wonderful strawberry alive.

My confidence swelled, and I coasted through the rest of the song, feeding off Rebecca's exquisite reactions. By the time I was finished, she was practically swooning, and it was all I could do to keep the smile off of my face. I took my bows and exited, forcing myself to go at a normal pace.

That is, until I was outside the view of the crowd. Then I dashed as fast as I could to my little strawberry.

**

* * *

Maddie**

I clapped politely as Nils made his exit; that kid definitely had talent. If he was in our world, no doubt some shark of an agent would have snapped him up already. He would be making tons of money and spending every spare minute in a recording studio. Instead he was wandering around with a bunch of vagabonds and not getting paid a dime to do it.

Hawkeye lumbered onstage, lugging a set of Nabatan drums with him. He set up in an inconspicuous corner of the stage, so that Ninian would have plenty of room to do her thing. Nils re-entered to modest applause and sat beside Hawkeye, his flute poised before his lips.

Even though it wasn't me on that stage, I felt a tightening in my stomach. This was the moment of truth. I'd taught Ninian all the moves she would be performing tonight; if this didn't work it would be partially my fault.

Actually, it would be entirely my fault. The maneuvers I'd taught Ninian hadn't been martial arts; they'd been the kind that she would be more familiar with. Dance moves. She could look like a professional doing any kind of dance, but the medieval folk might not be ready for _this particular _type.

Because in my entire life, I've only ever been good at one style of dancing, and that was the kind I'd taught Ninian.

Belly dance.

**

* * *

Eliwood**

I really should have sent Matthew in to do the talking, because I was in over my head. This chair was uncomfortable, my glass was dirty, and Ratatosk had a bad habit of expelling spittle from his mouth with every 'p' or 't' sound he made. I had to give Matthew more credit for the work that he did.

"That's a pretty incredible little pipsqueak," Ratatosk spewed as Nils left the stage. I nodded grimly and forced a smile on my face. _Remember_, I told myself. _You're not Eliwood of Pherae. You're Delowoi, the chief manager of the Renegades Entertainment Company._

"So, milord," I began during the lull between Nils and the next act. "What kinds of matters concern one of the most powerful men in Nabata?"

He was about to answer, but then Nils and Hawkeye began playing, the Beserker pounding out a rhythmic beat while Nils breathed slinky, serpentine notes across the room. Ratatosk fell silent and I mentally swore. We didn't have much more time with him; I had to get answers out of him _now_—

Onstage, a pale, slender arm peeked out from the wings. The fingers were long and tapered, and as the wrist twirled they drew graceful circles in the air. The arm was soon joined by a long leg, equally pale but beautifully shaped, poised at just the right angle to highlight the slender ankle and the roundness of the thigh.

There was a _swish _of cloth, a flash of turquoise hair, and then Ninian was onstage, rolling her hips in a completely indecent yet utterly transfixing manner. I swallowed hard as my eyes roamed over her. What in St. Elimine's name was she wearing? It seemed like only scraps of blue, mere scraps that covered her pert breasts and draped over her enticing hips.

She turned so that her back was to us, and I glimpsed silver coins dangling from the scarf around her lower body, but then she did something magnificent with her hips and I forgot all about the coins. I forgot about Ratatosk, I forgot about the point of this whole excursion, I forgot about everything except the way Ninian's back arched and how ripe her breasts looked when she pushed them forward. The way her hips circled seemed to invite a touch, beckoning me closer.

Need shot through me and centered in my groin. I whet my lips and shifted in my chair, trying to find a more comfortable position to alleviate the ache that had built in my lower belly. She couldn't possibly be aware of how she looked. There was no way she knew what effect she was having on every man in the room…

I stole a glance at Ratatosk and felt my eyes burn with hatred. The revolting bastard was practically drooling over Ninian; my hand fell to where I usually kept my sword, but I cursed under my breath when I realized I'd left it with Merlinus. I'd have to wait until afterwards to slit his throat, then; no one looked at Ninian like that and got away with it.

Back on the stage, Ninian swayed her arms gracefully, framing her hips when she shimmied, keeping her hands perfectly still as her shoulders rolled salaciously, tracing a line between her breasts. My mouth felt dry when I swallowed again. A part of me just wanted to watch her dance forever, yet another part wanted the torture to be over so that I could politely excuse myself and take care of the desire that had built up. How discreetly could I pour a glass of cold water over my head, I wondered?

Thankfully, I didn't have to answer that question. Ninian's dance ended and she bowed with utmost grace, then silently slipped off the stage. My arousal still throbbed, but at least I wouldn't have to endure any more teasing. But damn if I wouldn't be seeing that dance in my dreams for weeks to come.

"So, Lord Ratatosk. What sort of concerns must a distinguished man like you deal with…?"

**

* * *

Maddie**

Set of Nabatan drums: 50 gold.

Belly dancing costume: 70 gold.

Amount to bribe the owners to get you a time slot: 120 gold.

The look on Eliwood's face as he watches Ninian dance: Priceless.

In the small enclave behind the stage, Raquel and I were struggling to draw breath through our laughter. Tears were beading at the corner of my eyes, my stomach was cramping up, and my lungs burned for oxygen, but the laughs just kept on coming. Running underneath it was my sense of triumph. Let the oh-so-proper Eliwood try and keep his hands off Ninian _now_!

"Dude, that was amazing," Raquel choked, holding out her hand for a fist bump. I managed to return it as my chuckles ebbed away, and then Nils poked his aquamarine head around the corner.

"Miss Raquel, it's your turn," he said politely, and Raquel nodded in acknowledgement. "Well, here I go," she said to me, and began walking off, the slinky cocktail dress we'd chosen for her clinging to her voluptuous body. "Just don't blame me if I start cracking up in the middle of the song," she tossed over her shoulder. I just shook my head and wandered back to the rest of the group.

As I passed the tables that crowded the floor of the club, I noticed a few activities that were decidedly more adventurous than idle chatter. At one table, a group of people were crowded around a pile of white powder. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw them divide it into neat lines with razors, and I looked away when the crude straws came out. At the next table, money exchanged hands rapidly, and men discussed statistics and bloodlines of horses in conspiratorial whispers. Another one I passed held only one man, but he had a cup and dice, and was surrounded by a gaggle of young women, who 'ooh'ed and 'aah'ed at every little trick he did.

I sniggered to myself as I left the table behind, but I halted when I thought I heard a familiar voice coming from the table.

"Keep your eyes on him, ladies. Cheap parlor tricks are extremely erotic."

I whirled around, as did the ladies at the table, but I only saw a flash of a yellow braid. Despite the knowledge I held about the owner of that braid, I felt myself cracking a smile. Darian was still Darian after all.

As Raquel bust into a rousing rendition of Maroon 5's 'Kiwi', I reached the back of the club, where the rest of our group was waiting. I leaned against the wall and sank down to the floor, letting my eyes drift shut. All things considered, tonight had gone well.

From somewhere towards the entrance, I heard an impassioned shout of, "Your mother plays card games in hell!" But instead of alarming me, that only made me start laughing once more.

* * *

It was either very, very late night or early morning by the time we trudged back out to the camp we'd made. All of us were triumphant, but weary, and we were looking forward to some rest, but Eliwood had insisted on addressing us before we turned in. 

"First of all, good work, everyone. We couldn't have pulled this off without your cooperation and, um…" he trailed off briefly as Ninian caught his eye, but then he coughed and finished his statement. "…and your, um, talents. Secondly, I was able to speak to Ratatosk during the show. I discovered that the person who had told him we were responsible for his ally's death was named Jackson." He let the name sink into our brains and let our subconscious draw the same conclusion he was about to state.

"We have reason to believe that this 'Jackson' is the Jack of Clubs. If so, Ratatosk might be a lead to finding out more about the Cards. So prepare yourselves, everyone. Tomorrow we're storming Ratatosk's castle."

* * *

I know, I know, many of you are asking yourself, "But what about drunken Heath?!" That will be taken care of. I wanted to showcase some of my other favorite pairings in this chapter, so just be patient. 

That said, read, review, take your daily vitamins. Flamers will be dealt with by The Darian, who will give you a quick death... or maybe not. Muahahahaha.


	9. I Need a Purpose, Not an Excuse

Hey everybody! That was some wait, wasn't it? I'm sorry that it took so long to get this chapter out, but hopefully it meets your expectations and answers a few questions. Yeah, that's actually a typical amount of time for me to get out a new chapter. Finals, you know. Kinda get in the way.

Well, no, that's not the only thing. I also got distracted by _Air Gear_ and _Tengen Toppa Gurenn Lagann._ Which is entirely my fault, so really I have no excuse.

Please don't hurt me...

**Disclaimer: I still don't own Fire Emblem.** I'm gonna go cry now.

But hey, it's been so long that I get to do a recap! That cheers me up. If only that cool movie-preview-guy voice could be transmitted through text. Anyways, without further ado, I give you the ninth chapter of _Triple Entente_.

-LE (lockheedelektra)

* * *

**Previously, on Triple Entente:**

_Maddie and her friends continue to search for the enigmatic Cards, whose goal is to destroy the Fire Emblem world to prevent the Rift from disappearing. After a confrontation in the mountains, Maddie discovers that Darian--one of her closest friends from home--is allied with the Cards, and is now her enemy. _

_Later, Maddie is summoned to a meeting with the Queen of Hearts herself. Narrowly avoiding falling under Dame's spell, she escapes from the brothel with a drunken Heath in tow. With no danger imminent, Heath reveals that he may have feelings for Maddie that go beyond friendship. But is it just the alcohol talking?_

_Then the party is attacked by magic users, and after a brief attempt at information gathering, Eliwood gives them theiir new orders: _

**_"...Prepare yourselves, everyone. Tomorrow we're storming Ratatosk's castle."_**

* * *

**Darian—three hours earlier**

As I stealthily made my way through the smoky, dimly lit club, I questioned myself as to just what I was doing there. This by itself was unnerving to me; I usually have a set motive, a specific reason for undertaking anything that I do. But this time I had no such directive; I had just developed the spontaneous urge to check up on the very people that I had, at one point, been assigned to kill.

It was rather vexing.

More distressing was the fact that I was also questioning my role in this whole play. Again, not something that I usually do. I am many things, but by God I am _not_ a flip-flopper. Yet I was becoming so fed up with the side I was currently on that I was, in the back of my mind, contemplating the most insulting way to go turncoat on the Cards.

Because if I'm going to switch sides, I might as well do it with a bang, yeah.

I clung to the shadows cast by the chandeliers, observing silently once I found an appropriately darkened corner. The girl dancing onstage seemed to be having quite a profound effect on most of the men in the room—particularly some chap with red hair—but that wasn't relevant to what I wanted to know.

What did I want to know, anyways? God, this was frustrating!

My ice-blue eyes continued to scan the room, taking in any possible threats to my person or any details that could be of use later. But even as I was analyzing the room, a different part of my brain was racing a mile a minute. What did I mean to accomplish? A _purpose_, I had to have a _purpose_ here. Anything was better than this aimless cavorting about…

Suddenly my eyes fell on a familiar face; Maddie was drifting through the crowd, seemingly heading towards the back of the club. The question was: what incentive was there for her to go to the back of the club? This, my friends, was only a minor puzzle, but an excellent cure for my boredom and lack of motive. I fell upon it like a wolverine falls upon a deer.

I slipped away from my shady corner and began trailing her, staying a few tables behind her at all times, always keeping to the darker parts of the room. _Hmm… perhaps she wants to talk to Dodds or the others… No, she just passed him. Ah, was that a spark I saw in that green-haired fellow's eyes as she passed? Hm, I wonder which gene is dominant: green or brown hair? I'll ask Ephy-kun. _

On reflex, I was still observing the room as I babbled on in my mind; I felt myself recoil in disgust as I passed a table where shameless, broken men snorted white powder into their brains. I rolled my eyes as I reached the table where fools addicted to risking their livelihood swiftly exchanged their paltry money. But when I came to the table where a man surrounded by a gaggle of swooning young women was demonstrating tricks with a cup and dice, I felt a grin spread across my face. This opportunity was just too good to pass up.

"Keep your eyes on him, ladies. Cheap parlor tricks are extremely erotic."

Heads snapped in my direction, but I was too mercurial for them and slipped away, my braid bidding them adieu. Ah, that was satisfying. Perhaps that was my reason for slipping out of headquarters; I had just wanted to torment someone other than Ephidel, however briefly. My mood having been considerably improved, I sashayed towards the entrance of the club, intending to make a clean exit.

Regrettably, I was deterred by a hand like a slab of steak clamping down on my shoulder. T-bone steak. The extra-thick kind.

"This here club's invitation only, little girl. You don't look like you got invited."

'_Little girl'?_ That was a creative way to sign your death warrant.

Slowly, like I had all the time in the world, I turned my head to look the bouncer—who was nearly twice my height—dead in the eye. "You know," I began, "I've been looking for someone like you."

Clearly this was too much for the man's pea-sized intellect; a look of confusion furrowed his brow. My grin widened and I continued. "You see, down in Hell we've got a shortage of strapping men like you. Would you care to sign up?"

After a few beats, an emotion that the bouncer was probably more familiar with overtook his face: rage. "Think you're funny, don't you—" He lifted one giant mitt, intending to strike me, but once again my superior speed triumphed. I ducked down past the reach of his arm, stepped forward once to get enough distance between us… and then I sprung. I leapt into the air, twirling forcefully so that the knife concealed at the end of my braid would reach him.

There was a small tug of resistance, but then the blade cleaved across his throat, opening it deeply enough so that a spray of blood was released. I bounded back a few steps to avoid the crimson liquid, ending up at the doorway to the establishment. I snickered with dark humor as I realized that, even in a crowded club such as this, no one had noticed my impromptu assassination. Sweet irony.

"By the way, your mother plays card games in hell!" I tossed in before swiftly striding out the door. I had only gotten a couple of paces away from the club when I saw another figure standing in the street. My body instantaneously went on alert, then just as rapidly relaxed when I heard his voice.

"You've got some blood on your hair, you know."

"Pshh. Whatever can you mean? I just dipped my hair in wine."

Ephidel's lips curled into a smirk; it seemed he'd developed an acquired taste for my odd sarcasm. "Right. The Court Cards will throw a fit if you're not back by morning. Are you sure you've got enough time to wash out that… wine?"

"Not to worry. With you as my faithful steed, I've got all the time in the world!"

He exhaled through his nose, something I'd come to recognize as a sign of irritation. "I am not your steed, Darian."

"Ah, so you're my bitch, then?"

"_NO._"

"How about Trogdor, then?"

"For heaven's sake, I thought you gave that up a week ago!"

**

* * *

**

Maddie—present time

Vulnerary? _Check._

Antidote? _Check._

Heath's shirt? _Che—wait, what the hell?!_

I made a feral frustrated noise and chucked the shirt from my tent. Dammit, that was that delectable scent I'd smelled all night. That was the scent that had pervaded my dreams, _again_. Sure, they were enjoyable while they lasted, but I was getting damn sick of the effect they had on my waking life.

Example: my sudden inability to speak to Heath or be around Heath without blushing furiously and/or becoming aroused. I hated not having control over myself.

Listen, you! Don't go thinking I was throwing myself at him! Because I totally was not. But I was beginning to get a Pavlovian complex, and that enough made me want to avoid him. The way my body reacted to him only made things more awkward, and I didn't want to mess with our friendship. (Because that's all it was. Friend. Ship. Got it memorized?)

I returned to packing up my various accoutrements with vigor. There was no time to be thinking about these things. We would move out in about a half an hour for our big campaign against Ratatosk. If I let these stupid dreams consume my thoughts I wouldn't be able to concentrate at all.

"_Y'know, sometimes I have theshe dreamsh…"_

My hands stilled on my bedroll as I recalled that fateful night. He'd said that he had dreams as well… but Heath clearly didn't even remember that night, and he was so plastered at the time that he could have meant anything. It wasn't like that was an indication that he was also attracted to me. Certainly not.

I hoped not. I couldn't handle that much drama in my life. You know, in addition to saving the worlds and seeing that they merge safely. And trying to get Darian away from the blasted Dark Side.

_Wait a sec… what was Heath's shirt doing in my tent in the first place?_

_**Dunno. Why don'tcha go ask him?**_

_Okay, I've heard enough outta you to last a lifetime. _

_**Bah, I just say the things that you're too scared to. **_

_There's a reason I keep myself from saying them. It's because they would lead to me dying of embarrassment. _

_**You don't know that for sure. When are you going to start taking risks? The things that are worth the most are usually the things that we have to risk a lot for.**_

You know something is askew when the embodiment of your id starts making sense. _After the fight. I'll talk to him after the fight. _

_**There's a good girl. **_

From somewhere just outside the tent, a strong voice called, "Hey, my shirt! I was looking all over for this!"

_**Screw that, now's your chance! Go, woman, go!**_

… _I hate you._

And so, half to get it off my chest and half to make my Inner Self shut up already, I pulled back the flaps of the tent and stepped out into the early morning sun. Before me stood Heath, all coiled muscle and brilliant hair and shining eyes. The pit of my stomach fluttered and I forced my eyes to focus on his face, and nothing below. "Um… h-hey, Heath, how's it going?"

"Meh, I'm all right. You ready for the big fight today?"

"Yeah, I mean, I think so. You're never really totally ready, right?"

He smiled, and my knees gave slightly. "Right."

_Oh, sweet Jesus, just get it over with!_

"Uh… Heath? You probably don't remember this, but, um… You mentioned that you sometimes had dreams… about me, I think."

In a split second, all the color drained from Heath's face. "Did I?" Was it just me, or did his voice crack? "I, er, mayhavementionedsomethinglikethat—" Heath coughed heavily, though he was quite apparently not sick. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go, um… polish my lance."

"Smooth, Don Juan."

"Shut up, Legault!" Heath shouted at the Assassin who was strolling past; the Wyvern Lord's face had gone from ghostly white to beet red.

_**Hmm, perhaps you should help him with his… 'lance', eh?**_

_Are you incapable of thinking of anything BESIDES sex?!_

_**Not as long as you're in denial, chump.**_

_I am not a chump!_

_**So you admit you're in denial?**_

_ARGH!_

* * *

One thing Ratatosk certainly understood: presentation is key. As our party crested the final sand dune, we at long last caught sight of Ratatosk's stronghold. The structure was tall and blocky, carved of limestone like an ancient Egyptian temple. Eddies of sand swirled around it as well as the columns that surrounded the building and seemed to simply rise up out of the desert. The horizon darkened with roiling storm clouds that seethed towards us from Ratatosk's castle; bolts of lighting crackled between the clouds and the air felt pregnant with static.

"Entering the building you see is only the first task," I heard Hawkeye explain to Eliwood. "Most of the structure will be underground, with many narrow tunnels and booby traps. We need to be cautious."

Eliwood nodded sternly, looking on as troops began to file out from the stronghold. Their numbers were about equal to ours—but these troops had been trained to fight in the desert, and our gang had only fought on the sands a couple of times. I drew my bottom lip between my teeth and gnawed it with a vengeance.

On Eliwood's left, Vaida landed Aoife with a bass _thump_ that sent sand flying into the air. "Milord. Heath, the Falcoknights, and I are willing to lend aid from the skies. We could clear your path so that you can enter the stronghold more quickly, but I would recommend letting a group stay behind to deal with the rest of these troops."

"Right. We'll see if anyone wants to volunteer for that job first. But make sure that the group that stays behind has an adequate healer."

Eliwood then turned to Lyn and Hector, who stood at his right. "What say you two? Any recommendations for who we should take in with us?"

"Well…"

Tuning out the battle plans, I faced the increasingly inhospitable-looking horizon. A lighting storm was brewing in the sky, I was sure of it. Staying outside meant a chance of being crispified by the lightning—if the enemy troops didn't get you. Inside the compound, instead of the lightning, you could die by the booby traps or just get lost forever in the underground maze. Hell, maybe they even had more troops waiting inside.

An old saying that had been circulating in my head for roughly two years popped up again: _You can't choose where you are born, but you can choose how you die_. Some choice they were offering us. A) Get fried to extra-crispy, or B) Run down dark corridors like frightened rats until you die of exhaustion or hunger.

My eyes drifted shut as the hot desert wind blew from behind our backs. Maybe I would choose option C: survive, no matter what happens. Something bigger than me was at stake here. I didn't have the luxury of backing down.

Eliwood was shouting something to us, to our army; I wasn't paying attention to the words, but his tone was all I needed. It was strong, encouraging, inspiring. Eliwood thrust his Rapier into the air and I felt myself mimic his actions, throwing my fist towards the sky. Everyone around me followed suit, our blood pumping wildly through our veins. No one had any doubts about how difficult this fight would be, but somehow we all knew that we would get through it. We had to get through it.

Battle-cries on our tongue, we charged down the face of the dune.

**

* * *

**

Darian

There is one thing that I have always wanted to do: kick down a door. Really, who _doesn't_?

The wood creaked with protest beneath my questing foot, then with agonized groans and cracks, gave way to my assault, and fell with a thunderous _boom_ to the floor. _Victory is mine, imbeciles!_

Of course, I had a clear reason for kicking down the door to the Clubs' chamber, since I was back on my game after that brief period of wishy-washiness. Firstly, I wanted to make an entrance. Secondly, I had a bone to pick with the leader of my Suit.

And I was totally skipping over the King this time. He was small potatoes compared to who I was after.

Stepping over the defeated door, I planted my hands on my hips and shouted:

"HEY! ACE OF CLUBS! Come out; come out, wherever you are!"

I was greeted with my own voice echoing around the cavernous chamber. I waited a few seconds, giving the Ace an opportunity to respond. I was just about to let loose with another summons when I heard slow, deliberate footsteps coming from the back of the room. An ominous presence filtered out from the figure, which was steadily approaching me; after the first week, I'd grown used to the impressive auras of the Cards, but this odious atmosphere made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. The figure drew closer, still cast in shadow, and its aura grew more oppressive until it felt like the air was trying to compress me into the ground. I grit my teeth and locked my legs in place, refusing to give way.

Finally the figure reached the light of the torches; first the light gleamed off shiny jackboots, then illuminated khaki trousers and a similar jacket decorated with various medals. I could make out a red sash tied around his left arm, but his face was still shrouded in shadow.

After approximately an eternity, the Ace of Clubs stepped fully into the light.

And I was face to face with none other than Adolf Hitler.

"… You're kidding, right? I've heard of conspiracy theory, but this is just _preposterous_."

Hitler raised an eyebrow. "I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about," he said evenly, with a German accent. _Of course he's got a German accent! He's bloody Hitler!_

"You're dead!" I cried. "You killed yourself with your mistress in a hidden love nest! You're not an interdimensional demon-thing!"

"Actually, I am," he replied, just as cool as a cucumber. "I only take this form because this Adolf Hitler is someone you know as a puppet master of a nation. Someone you equate with violence… and fear."

The calm logic in his voice made a chill go down my spine. The Ace of Clubs wasn't palavering around with trying to make you feel comfortable. He wanted you to see his face and think of all the terrible things that his doppelganger did so long ago.

The Ace stood up straight, heels clicked together, and bowed slightly from his neck. "But forgive my rudeness. I am Eingeweihter. What business do you have with me?"

About a couple seconds later I was able to convince myself that it was _not actually_ Adolf Hitler I was talking to, and I remembered what I'd first come here to do. "Well," I drawled, trying to look at casual as possible despite the slight tremor in my hands, "you see, mein Führer, no one's really told me what our goal is around here. And it's kind of bugging me. Do you think you could shed some light on things?"

Ever seen any pictures of Adolf Hitler smiling? There's a reason. It's too unnerving a sight to show to the general public. Eingeweihter smiled, and explained to me what the Cards' goal was—as he put it, what their _destiny_ was.

Years ago, words coming from that mouth incited a nationalistic fire in the hearts of men. But now they only made my blood turn cold.

**

* * *

**

Maddie

The thick sand blazed beneath me, morphing around my feet so I couldn't push off the ground. Around us, our assailants collapsed to the ground, felled by the spears of our flying units before they could even touch us. But the enemy kept coming, and my limbs burned with the effort of the relentless charge. I was part of the detail that would enter the compound—if I burned myself out before I even got there I'd be worse than useless.

Suddenly my feet found purchase on a solid surface: the bedrock that Ratatosk's compound was built on. It felt like I was flying compared to the slow going on the sand, and our group barreled into the antechamber like a cannonball through a wooden ship. Among us were Lyn and Eliwood—Hector had stayed behind to guard the door—Sain, Raquel, Whitney, and Canas. The inside of the chamber was mostly empty, devoid of any trappings or furniture. The only feature was a slightly discolored stone in the center of the floor—a trapdoor to the underground network.

"Try to be as quiet as you can," Eliwood whispered. "They may not know we're in here yet—"

I swear to this day that the timing for what followed could not have been planned better. Just as Eliwood finished his sentence, the trapdoor practically exploded off its hinges, and swarms of Mages, Mercenaries, and Archers came piling out. _Well, so much for the element of surprise. Looks like we gotta do it old-school._

Raquel licked her lips and hopped up on Whitney's horse, sitting so that the two were back-to-back. She strung her bow and smirked over her shoulder at the blonde healer. "The hood got your back, yo. You just do your healing thing and I'll cover you."

"Riiight…"

And then there was no more time for shenanigans, because there was a Mercenary who looked like he was having a very bad day up in my face, and that kind of thing sort of captures your attention.

His sword flew towards my stomach; I sidestepped quickly, simultaneously smacking my cupped palm against his ear. He shouted in pain and fought to stand up straight, and I knew I'd succeeded in breaking his eardrum. While he stumbled around, I shot forward and struck his throat with the edge of my hand; I felt his Adam's apple knock back into his trachea and knew that soon he'd be choking on his own blood.

He managed a final, mad swing at me, which I dodged easily enough, only to walk right into a burgeoning Elfire spell. Panic bubbled up when I felt my clothes catch on fire, but I couldn't exactly stop, drop and roll in this contained space, so I had to try and beat out the flames while avoiding any arrows that flew at me.

"Hey Maddie, is that your variation on the Cha-Cha Slide?"

"Shut up and get back to killing people, Raquel!"

Suddenly I was doused with very frigid water, which shocked me into paralysis for a half a second before I whipped around to see who had dared… um… help save my life.

Canas gave me a shit-eating grin and a thumbs-up. "Hope that helps! I'm sure Heath will love the new look when this is all through!"

My eyes widened and I temporarily forgot about the fight, seizing the front of his cloak. "What was that?!" I screeched in the poor Shaman's face. He held up his hands in the universal 'I'm-as-innocent-as-a-wee-babe' gesture. "Don't look at me, they made me say it!" He declared, pointing at Raquel and Whitney, who had found time to whistle absently and stare at anything but me.

My bottom left eyelid twitched and I released Canas as an arrow sailed between us. "I'll deal with _all_ of you when this is over, you hear me?!" And I slammed my fist into an enemy Monk's gut, feeling his diaphragm fold around my blow. As he hunched over I swept upward with my elbow, catching him under his jaw and sending him sailing backwards. His head cracked sickeningly as he hit the stone floor.

Out of the corner of my eye, Lyn's sword flashed in the darkness, moving so quickly that by the time I saw the blade it was only an afterimage. She plowed through the crowd of enemies with lethal, efficient grace.

By contrast, only a few feet away from the Blade Lord was Sain, flailing wildly like he'd gone berserk. Yet his moves were no less effective as assailant after assailant fell to his piercing lance and swiping sword. The two were an odd combination, certainly—but they worked together flawlessly.

Then, with the abruptness of an atomic explosion, everything turned white, burning my eyes with its intensity. The light faded and my eyes struggled to re-adjust—difficult, since my pupils felt like they'd been contracted out of existence. The negative image of the room had been branded onto my retinas, leaving vapor trails in its wake as I frantically glanced around. When things adjusted at long last, I could identify the source of the flash.

Ratatosk had made his entrance.

The lord of the castle we were invading raised his right arm and began muttering something under his breath; there was a twinkle at his fingertips, which steadily grew brighter and larger until a starburst of light had formed above his hand. With a cry, he brought his hand down and released the Luce spell at the person nearest to him—Lyndis.

The girl from Sacae had no time to react, no chance to dodge the spell; and so she could do nothing as Sain leapt in front of her, taking the blow.

The Luce spell faded, and Sain's limp body fell to the ground, sliding a few feet away from his lady. For a moment sealed in time, everything seemed to stop. Our enemies didn't attack us, we didn't budge towards them—the whole chamber fell deadly silent, perfectly still.

Lyn kept her gaze on Sain's body, eyes wide with disbelief, like she expected him to pop up and announce that it was all in a day's work, my lady.

But the moment dragged on, and he was motionless.

Lyn cast her eyes to the floor, hiding her expression from us. And when she looked up again, the message her eyes spoke was painfully clear: rage. Pure, untainted rage.

Ratatosk began warming up another spell, but the portly Bishop never had a chance. Before his eyelid could even start to shiver in a blink, Lyn was in front of him, and the Mani Katti had been speared through his chest. His oily blood dripped to the ground, and Lyn twisted her sword just barely, her jade eyes narrowed to merciless slits. In one fluid motion, she ripped her sword from Ratatosk's now-cold body, and let his corpse sprawl across the ground.

"Does anyone else…" she began, voice low and threatening in a tone I'd never heard her use, "…want to try me?"

The din made by our enemies' weapons clanging to the ground hurt my ears. I managed to avoid the powerful tide of people clamoring to get out the door—of course, once outside they had to contend with Hector and his ilk. But even I was certain that I'd rather face Hector than Lyndis right now.

Once everyone had cleared out, we turned our attention back to the Blade Lord; Lyn remained standing over Ratatosk's corpse for a few more seconds, and then turned and gradually began walking towards Sain's body. She knelt down next to him, with all her wrath drained out of her system. Her normal vibrancy was completely gone; instead she looked weary, as if some force had ravaged her life and left it bleak.

In a movement that was violent in its suddenness, Lyn raised her fist and whacked Sain's cold chest. "Dumb stupid idiot!" she choked. "I could have taken care of myself—you didn't have to charge in and… and…" She broke off abruptly and drew in a shuddering breath, but I knew she was too prideful to let herself cry in front of us. "You didn't… have to…"

Lyn's mouth tried to form words, but only a strangled, dry sob emerged, and she beat on Sain's chest once more. And we all heard what was said next with almost painful clarity:

"Ow."

The Blade Lord's hand, which had been preparing to strike Sain again, stopped in midair. Grief was wiped away in favor of shock, and Lyn's jade-green irises were surrounded with white as her eyes widened. Sain's eyelids flickered and his brow furrowed; he let out a low sound of discomfort, then a half-chuckle that sounded more like a cough.

His chestnut-brown eyes cracked open, twinkling with the same playfulness they always possessed. "You've sure got a sharp right, my lady."

Lyn's breath hitched, and the tears that she had refused to let fall earlier made shining paths down her cheeks. Her expression melted from stunned relief into complete joy, and before the battered Sain could do anything, she had launched herself at him in a fierce hug.

"Sain…" she said quietly against his chest. "… _Don't you ever do that again_!"

Then the Blade Lord pulled back from her loving hug and promptly socked Sain in the jaw.

"I thought you were _dead_, you jackass!" _Wham._ "Do you have any idea how that made me _feel_?!" _Pow. _"How _dare_ you pull a stunt like that!" _Crack._

"Um… Lyndis? He really _will _die if you keep beating him up like that."

Lyn blinked and halted in the middle of her German Suplex as Eliwood's voice cut in on her ranting. She seemed to realize that Sain was considerably worse off than before, and instantly ceased her pummeling. "Crap! Whitney, do you think you could—"

"I'm on it," the Troubadour replied, apparently having seen this coming a mile away. While healing blue light washed over poor Sain, I leaned against the wall and took a swig of a vulnerary. I chuckled as Lyn pushed Sain's hair back from his forehead in a tender gesture. Both of those two were just clueless.

Just to my right, Canas was exuding worry, the glint of his monocle concealing his eye. "This is bad…" I heard him mutter.

I raised my eyebrow, then shrugged. "Whatever, man. I think it's sweet."

"No, not those two," he clarified, waving a hand at Lyn and Sain. "I mean the fact that Ratatosk is dead. He was our only lead to the cards, and now we're back at square one."

"Shit, you're right," I murmured. Dammit, all of this fighting and effort had been for nothing! Now the Cards had even more time to bring their plans to fruitition, while we were stuck wandering around aimlessly again. We weren't going to get anything done at this rate…

"Why so glum, chum?" said a slightly cocky, somewhat mocking, but terribly familiar voice.

My head snapped up so quickly I heard my neck crack; I winced, but it only barely interrupted my shock at who was standing before me. Icy eyes twinkled up at me, and the short girl wiggled her fingers in greeting.

"D-Darian?"

Weapons were drawn at my startled question, but Darian waved her hand almost dismissively at the ten-plus blades now pointed at her. "Please, calm yourselves. We aren't here for a skirmish." Her grin flashed at me, and this one was no longer foreign or frightening. It was Darian's grin, that same grin when she was about to make a sarcastic comment or verbally fillet someone in a debate. In that instant, before she even spoke again, I knew that I had my friend back.

"As a matter of fact, we'd like to join your side."

"Prove it," Eliwood retorted, his Rapier never wavering from its position. "Prove this isn't a trick."

"Afraid I can't, sonny," the petite Mercenary replied smoothly.

"Then how do we know we can trust you?" the Prince of Pherae spat.

Darian leveled a severe gaze at him—a considerable achievement, considering he was almost two heads taller than her. "You don't. You'll just have to go on faith, won't you? Isn't that what trust is?"

"… At least offer an explanation. Why are you leaving the Cards for our side?"

Darian sighed, one of annoyance more than anything. "I really don't owe you an explanation, but I suppose I'll acquiesce this one time. I spoke with the Ace of Clubs before I left, and he informed me of their plans… which I had never heard before, mind you."

"We know they want to destroy this world to broaden the Rift," I cut in evenly. The braided girl nodded and continued with: "Yes, but that's not it. They also aim to obliviate _our_ world, so that there's nothing but a Sea of Chaos."

I tried to take that stoically, but there was no escaping the way my throat closed off. It was one thing to think about the destruction of a whole world of people you'd never met—it was entirely another to imagine your friends, your family, your pets, your home, the places you hang out at on weekends, the park you go to when you want to be alone all wiped out into nothingness… _Stop it. Keep it together_.

The lump in my throat felt dry as I swallowed my distress, and Darian continued. "Naturally, I was opposed to that. So I left. Ephy-kun came along because he was sick of being ordered around and treated like an underling."

"Well said, partner," echoed a second voice, this one a medium baritone, from the doorway to the room. Ephidel stood there, looking confident as usual in his long cloak. "So as it is, though you really have no reason to trust us—"

"DAMN RIGHT WE DON'T!!"

Ephidel suddenly sailed into the castle, having been forcefully tackled by—who else—Hector. The two landed on the floor in a roll, already pummeling each other before they slid to a stop at our feet.

"All right!" Raquel shouted. "My money's on the guy with horns! Go, Satan Man!"

Darian sniggered at Raquel's comment. "As well you should put your money on him. Nevertheless, this isn't the time for a spat. Let's cut it out, boys," she said, clapping sharply to alert the two brawling men of her presence.

Ephidel managed to shove Hector off him with a grunt and stood quickly, dusting off his wiry frame. "He started it," the dragon-man sniffed disdainfully. Hector snarled and hauled himself up, looking ready to tear out some of Ephidel's internal organs, but Eliwood pushed him back. "Just wait, Hector."

The Great Lord snarled, but surprisingly backed off. Eliwood turned back to Darian and Ephidel, his expression still grave, eyes hooded with distrust. "You have to do something. Give us a symbol, a token of loyalty."

"A token, you say?" Darian seemed intrigued by that, and rubbed her chin thoughtfully. "We might have something like that… yes…"

"Oh, stop drawing things out," Ephidel said with an eye-roll. He reached into his cloak and withdrew a playing card—the Ten of Spades. "Have this. It's a symbol of our positions in the Cards."

Eliwood accepted the card and examined it thoroughly; he rubbed his thumb over the spade symbol and frowned. "It's warm," he remarked, glancing up at our two anti-heroes.

"The cards can be used as a means of contact. The Face Cards must want to know where we've gone," explained Ephidel, his face showing only mild concern. The redheaded prince nodded, then efficiently ripped the card to bits. "I'll need yours also."

"Very well," Darian grumbled. She took her own card from her breast pocket and grudgingly handed it to Eliwood. He repeated the process and then dusted off his hands. "If we discover that you're continuing to meet with the Cards in secret, we'll have to kill you. But that aside, welcome to the fold."

Ephidel gave a curt nod, as did Darian, who still had a smirk on her face. "Well then," she began, "in the spirit of camaraderie, might we assist you by leading you to the Cards' lair…?"

**

* * *

**

Elsewhere…

"Lord Eingeweihter. We've just lost contact with the Ten of Clubs."

"Hmm. And the Ace of Spades tells me that they've lost the Ten of Spades as well."

"I believe that is so, my lord. What would you have us do?"

…

"Nothing, for now. Do not fret. Our plans shall be achieved, and this petty resistance shall be dealt with. One way or another."

* * *

Phew. So there it is. As you can tell, we're coming towards the end of this little story. Only two or three more chapters to go, I think. And after that might be some... bonuses.

And by 'bonuses', I mean porn. Oh, there will probably be a separate document that has little clips of 'scenes you didn't see', like an omake theater, but really you all just want the porn. Don't deny it. Hey, if I'm up to it, I might even take requests. Just don't tell on me and we can keep it going.

Heh, with that said, please leave a review if you've got the time.


	10. MORTAL KOMBAT!

Once again, y'all must thank Darian for this speedy update. And yes, in case you were wondering, her new cattle prod is in very good working condition. -nurses shoulder-

**DISCLAIMER: I... oh, come on, you know the deal by now.**

And so, without further ado, I give you chapter 10 of _Triple Entente_.

-LE (lockheedelektra)

* * *

Okay, I think you might have gotten the wrong impression of me from these past few chapters. I'm actually not that violent of a person. Really, most of the time I just agree to disagree and let things go.

But. There are a few things that are simply nonnegotiable.

"Fil, I _know_ I did not just hear you say that Yagami was the protagonist of Death Note."

One of those being that Light Yagami is—and always will be—a complete and utter douchebag.

The Boxer blinked at me, unaware of the slight he'd just committed against humanity. "But he is, right? I mean, he's the main character."

"A main character who's a _jackass_! Come on, L totally owned Yagami up and down the block!"

"I dunno… L was kinda… weird…"

"He was adorable! With his candy and his toes and his lack of eyebrows…" I trailed off, realizing that while these arguments made perfect sense to me, a girl who found dorky guys like L the cutest things on the planet, they were only earning me dubious looks from Fil. Exasperated, I rolled my eyes and called to the short girl who stood a ways behind us. "OI! Darian! Isn't L way better than the bastard?"

Not even needing to ask who 'the bastard' was, Darian nodded. "Most certainly. Why," she cracked her knuckles ominously, "does someone say otherwise?"

I grinned at Fil like the Cheshire Cat; he returned it with a narrow-eyed stare. However, seeing as how he wanted to keep all his internal organs on the inside, he backed off. "Fine, fine. You win this time."

"That's right I do!" I trumpeted, and went back to examining the peaches at the fruit stand. It had been a few days since Darian and Ephidel had joined up with our group; we'd been spending that time marching towards the Cards' lair under their direction. At the moment, we would probably arrive there at about sundown tomorrow, so we took the opportunity to stop off in a town and restock. Eliwood had even given us permission to splurge on luxuries like fresh fruit and candy—though we had to get new weapons and such first, of course.

Fortunately, I was not bound to the use of sharp pointy objects, so most of my allowance was going into the aforementioned luxuries. I piled a few more caramels into my already overflowing wicker basket, made my purchases, and trotted back off to camp to indulge. Hey, there was a damn good chance I wouldn't live to see the end of the week. I would live it up while I could.

_**Ooh, wait, back up, back up! Look in that store right there!**_

Even knowing it would only mean trouble, I heeded the call of my Inner Self and backed up to glance into the store she'd mentioned.

I could feel the blood rush to my face. _You're joking. Who the hell do you think I am?!_

_**I think you're just the kind of girl who would look great in that little number.**_

_Ew, no, it's got way too much lace. If I was going to wear one of those, it would have to be in black anyways… but that's not the issue._

_**Au contraire. Come on, isn't this your time to live it up? Look, they've got a black one…**_

I hesitated with my comeback. Might as well, right? I mean, just to have the experience of wearing something like that. Certainly not for the purpose of having a green-haired Wyvern Lord whisk it off.

Taking apprehensive, somewhat shy steps, I entered the lingerie shop.

**

* * *

**

Serra

Before I start, I have got to tell you that NONE of this was my fault. How could you blame li'l old innocent me for something like this? You should be ashamed of yourself!

I was just making my way around the bakery, picking up some particularly delicious-looking cranberry muffins (health first, you know—us Clerics are very health-conscious). Erk was accompanying me on my little shopping trip; what can I say, my charms are irresistible. Of course, Mr. Grumpypants had to be all surly and complain the whole time to try and fool himself that he wasn't attracted to me.

But he's not fooling me, oh no! Why can't he just realize that he has to be open about those feelings—especially since I've been dropping hints for ages that I want to go past a master/servant relationship, too!

But anyways, that's not really the point. The point is that the shopkeeper hit on _me_, not the other way around. Of course I did reciprocate a little—he was decently attractive, a few years older than I—but it was mostly out of my caring nature. Have to let them down easy, you know.

Of course, immediately after I turned to leave with my delectable muffins, there was my little mulberry-haired Ray of Sunshine, his ordinarily tempting lips pressed into a thin white line.

"Erk, whatever is the matter?" I asked in an innocent voice while inside I cackled with glee. Hopefully this would be the straw that would break the camel's back and get him to confess so that we could get out of romantic limbo already.

His elegant, almost effeminate hands tightened into fists at his side. He cast a glare at the shopkeeper, then turned his burning ebony eyes to me. The boy seemed about to explode with anger or implode with frustration. After approximately forever, he ground out, "I didn't think that you would lower yourself to such behavior. Apparently I misjudged you, Serra."

Indignation furrowed my brow. "Excuse me? How in any way did I lower myself—" and then it hit me, as I saw that there wasn't just rage in Erk's eyes—there was betrayal, and jealousy. He was _jealous _that I'd flirted with the shopkeeper! Part of me did a Happy Dance, but a smaller part that sat near the center of my chest felt almost guilty. Sure, my actions had seemed inconsequential to me, but they'd hurt Erk.

The Sage spun on his heel and made to exit the shop, but I reached out a silver-gloved hand and caught his sleeve. "Let go of me," he said, his normally composed voice sounding thick and raw.

"No," I replied simply, tugging him out of the store and into an alleyway. I deposited my basket of muffins on the ground with one hand and shoved Erk up against the brick wall with the other; he still stared at me like I was an enemy spy while I glared mildly at him, hands on my hips.

"Listen, you," I began. "You're obviously too thick to notice, but I _like _you. And I've been astute enough to notice that you like me, too. We both like each other, so let's just stop this beating-around-the-bush nonsense and get to the good part, yes?"

He blinked, thick eyelashes falling over his exotic slanted eyes. "I… Serra, I… what?"

I rolled my eyes. Shock had set in, how wonderful. I'd have to snap him out of it. Leaning forward and up, I pressed my lips against his mouth, which had thankfully returned to its sumptuous state.

His mouth was slack for a moment, but then his motor function returned to him and he responded eagerly. His hands rested on my slender waist and fire blossomed through me, along with girlish glee. Finally, _finally_ I wouldn't have to wait for him anymore.

We parted for air after a few moments, though I still felt lightheaded even after some oxygen intake. My mouth curved into a cheery bow as I saw Erk's dazed expression; he slowly came back to reality and looked back down at me curiously.

"I've already spelled it out for you, silly," I whispered. "So what are you going to do about it?"

His midnight eyes smoldered, though it was with desire rather than anger. Erk's hands tightened around my waist, and this time he dove towards me, claiming my lips and pressing me back against the opposite wall. The impact was slightly jarring, but I was too preoccupied with the questing tongue probing into my mouth. The boss in me wanted to tell him to stop that, that I was in charge here, but instead I let him explore, let his kisses trail over my jaw and down my neck.

"I'll tell you what I'll do," he murmured against the sensitive skin of my throat. "I'll make damn sure you never want to flirt with a shopkeeper again."

**

* * *

**

Dodds

The difference between fulfillment and utter devastation was in the palm of my hand, in the shape of a gently glowing gold ring. A Guiding Ring, to be precise. Nino had told me that I was about ready to become a Sage, but it all depended on this little circle of metal.

Sitting directly across from me was my mentor herself; she nodded in an encouraging fashion at me, trying to ease the tension building in my shoulders. It wasn't helping. Not to say that Nino had been an ineffective mentor, but this was a serious situation. If I failed, it was all on me. Taking a deep breath, I slid the ring onto the middle finger of my right hand.

Of all the things that could have happened, I was not expecting to hear the first notes of the Super Mario theme song at _all. _But hey, that's life. One moment you're wracked with tension, the next you're reliving the good old N64 days.

I looked up to see Nino's frown of disapproval. "Try it again," she said gently, meaning that it hadn't worked. I repeated the process once more—though this time I heard the opening strains of the Final Fantasy victory song.

"Again."

_Legend of Zelda._

"Once more."

_Sonic the Hedgehog._

"Come on, one more try…"

_MORTAL KOMBAT!!_

I slumped over, letting the ring tumble from my hand to the ground. "Fate hates me," I groaned. Nino patted my shoulder in consolation and smiled gently. "Oh, don't worry, Dodds, I'm sure you're almost ready to be a Sage. Just a few more skirmishes and you'll be all set."

I sighed and returned the smile, faking like I was cheering up. The only thing was, we didn't have _time_ for another few skirmishes. We'd be at the Card's stronghold by tomorrow, and I'd have to go into battle without having ranked up. Not something that I wanted to face, even if I had recently mastered Elfire and Bolting. Without more fighting experience, I was dead where I stood.

_Hmmm… I wonder if I can go get into a fight with some punks downtown…_

**

* * *

**

The next day—Maddie

I gaped at the army collected before us, the setting sun glinting off of round helmets and making the mass of humanity look like a rolling sea. There must have been at least a thousand men there, blocking our way to the crude entrance hewn into the side of a mountain. They took up almost the entire plain between the entrance and our group—the kind of numbers that we would hardly have a chance against, no matter how fiercely we fought.

"Ah, I see they've brought out the welcoming committee," Darian quipped from her seat next to me. Her legs dangled daringly over the edge of the cliff we were seated on, where we could safely overlook the enemy. Hanna was on my opposite side, examining the gargantuan army with a critical eye.

"They're very low-level creatures," the crone explained, her psychic powers perceiving that which I could not. "Similar to the beasts you fought in Moytura. It won't take much to kill them."

"Yeah, but their numbers are still a big problem." I rubbed my temples and looked away from the plains. The sight of certain doom gave me a headache.

Darian, however, was used to facing death and destruction with a grin on her face and blades in her hand. "Not to worry. I have a plan!" She announced in her best Potter-Puppet-Pals-Ron voice. The petite Mercenary popped up, dusted herself off with efficiency, and headed back towards the camp. Hanna raised a brow at me in question, but I could only shrug in response as I followed after Darian.

She wasted no time in hunting down Ephidel; the two exchanged a few words, and then the dragon man produced what looked suspiciously like a modern megaphone from his cloak. The braided girl strode over to the front of the camp, the megaphone clutched in her fist. She lifted it up to her face and was just about to speak into it when—

"Darian! What do you think you're doing with that… whatever that is."

Icy blue eyes sliced over to Eliwood, irritated that he'd cut her off. "It's a megaphone, you nitwit. And I'm about to engage in scare tactics. Just trust me on this, yes?"

Before the Prince of Pherae could say anything more, Darian spoke into the device with her typical enthusiasm: "LISTEN UP, YOU PATHETIC EXCUSES FOR AN EXISTENCE!! YOU'D BETTER PRAY TO YOUR IMPOTENT GOD, BECAUSE I AM COMING TO RIP YOUR HEART OUT AND EAT IT IN FRONT OF YOU!!"

Astonishment reigned in the camp, shocked faces abounded. Only Ephidel had the tiniest little smirk on his face; I turned to him and gave him a quizzical look, to which he replied, "Darian and I had heard the Face Cards talk of an auxiliary army such as this one."

"—AND THEN I SHALL USE YOUR RIBS TO BASH YOUR SKULLS IN A PERCUSSIVE CHORUS—"

"The way the Face Cards spoke of them, however, made them seem not only terribly weak but also abhorrently cowardly…"

"—AND DO YOU KNOW WHAT I'LL DO WITH YOUR SPLEEN?!—"

"… So we both agreed that a tactic like this would be most beneficial in giving us an advantage over their large numbers."

"—THEN I'LL GRIND YOU ALL INTO MEAT PIES AND FEED YOU TO THE HELLHOUNDS IN MY BACKYARD!! NOW RUN TO YOUR DEMISE, FOOLS!!"

Her speech complete, Darian gracefully skipped back towards the group and handed the megaphone back to Ephidel, who made it vanish in a way that had me thinking his cloak was fourth-dimensional. "There you go," the blonde said matter-of-factly. "Now we just have to charge at them with reckless abandon and an insane look on our faces and we'll do just fine."

And did we ever.

**

* * *

**

Jordan

My sword swept the head off another soldier, his body crumbling even as a second one leapt at me from my left. Fidelma reared and stamped on his chest, knocking him out of the air so I could pin him down and spit him with my lance.

Funny—if you'd asked me years ago why I was learning to ride horses, I'd probably say, "Because I want to be like a princess!" or something girly like that. And here I was participating in a gore-fest.

I wanted desperately to wipe the sweat off my forehead—errant strands of my ponytail were clinging to my face—but I glanced at my ash-covered armor and thought better of it. A battle-cry reached my ears just a second too late, and I twisted in Fidelma's saddle to see my attacker lurching up at me—

The dust explosion that used to be his head made me twitch away from him; I chanced a look at the arrow that had saved me and saw the red-and-white fletching almost instantly. One of Rath's arrows, then.

I looked back up to see the Kutolah tribesman not too far away. "Thanks, I owe ya one!" I shouted. He nodded stoically, his expression never changing, though there was a glint of amusement in his dark green eyes. Then he rode off again, sword flashing, quite possibly the sexiest enigma I had ever known.

Fidelma snorted and looked up at me, reminding me that the battlefield was not the right place for phrases like 'sexy'. _All right, girl, I get it._ Dang, it looked like I'd have to wait until this whole business was done to start fantasizing.

Freaking destruction of the world. Why couldn't it wait just this once?

**

* * *

**

Angel

"You're all set, Dart. Get out there and show 'em Hell."

The pirate gave a shark like grin and darted out of the infirmary tent, freeing up another cot. All around me were groans of pain, blue lights growing and dimming as Serra, Priscilla, Whitney and I worked to keep the injured alive. Whitney had actually recently become a Valkyrie, but we needed all the healers we could get right now.

"We got another one!" Pent shouted as he escorted a stumbling Raven into the tent. I motioned him over, and the Sage dumped the injured man onto the cot. "You want me to…?" Pent asked, gesturing at Raven. "No, I can handle it. You go out there and do your thing."

Pent nodded gravely and jogged back out into the fray, leaving me to deal with the task of getting the most stubborn, bullheaded man in history to cooperate with me.

"I'm fine, woman. Don't waste your magic on me."

"Don't be dumb." I shoved him back onto the cot when he tried to sit up. "You're so pale you could be dead already." Keeping him in a prone position with one hand planted firmly on his chest, I focused on channeling the power of the staff into Raven's body to encourage his wound to heal. The gouge in his thigh mended back together, as did the smaller cuts on his chest and stomach—but still the redhead looked almost ghostly white.

Frowning, I turned him over, ignoring his half-assed sound of complaint. A gasp escaped my throat as I saw his mangled back; some of the cuts went so deep I was surprised he could still feel his legs. He must have been staying upright through sheer willpower.

"My God, what did you do, jump into a cluster of them?"

"Pretty much, yeah. Guy looked like he was having some trouble."

The blue light faltered as temporary confusion broke my concentration. "Guy? What do you mean…?"

Raven snorted in that eloquent way of his. "What, did you think I would just leave him to die? I wouldn't be able to look at myself in the mirror. And it would make Priscilla sad."

The healing done, Raven managed to sit up, a minor wince passing over his striking features. "Don't get me wrong. I still don't like the boy," he said, but his ordinarily cutting voice seemed to have a softer edge. "But he's my comrade in arms. No matter how much I disapprove of him mooning after my sister, I will not throw his life away." His russet eyes connected with my dark brown ones momentarily, and suddenly it felt like I was seeing some other side of Raven that he kept locked away.

But then he looked back to the door and stood, picking up his sword. "Thank you for healing me," he said without looking back at me. "I'm in your debt."

"Er… it's no big deal, really." Jeez, he made it sound like I'd helped him hide from the Mafia or something. Guess we were back to the uptight, formal Raven. But as he strode confidently away, I couldn't help thinking of the man I'd caught a glimpse of, when our eyes had met in that moment.

**

* * *

**

Vaida

I was born to be on the battlefield. Of this, I was sure. It was a fact, certain as the ash that covered my lance and coated my sword. This was my home, the rush of adrenaline and the thrill of victory far superior to any romantic sentiments or familial longings I'd ever known. That was just how it went, with soldiers like me.

So I wondered, as I ran another underling through, why the damn Bishop looked so comfortable here as well.

No, not _comfortable_, that wasn't the right word. Perhaps _suited_ or _appropriate_ was better, I thought as I hacked off the arm of an offending attacker. Which was odd, seeing as how womanly he looked. That long, shining hair and peaceful, welcoming face ordinarily did nothing but instill a disturbing sense of tranquility in me.

But in the heat of battle that slender little holy man came alive. He dodged with effortless grace, demolished enemies with a flick of his delicate wrists. His crystal blue eyes narrowed somehow, became colder and sharper, the eyes of a true warrior. How could a soul like that be residing in the body of someone so… so… _pretty_?

I scowled and impaled an assailant through the throat. No matter. He might be able to fake it, but Lucius was no soldier. The whelp was barely worth my consideration otherwise…

"General, step out left!"

Without even thinking I tumbled gracefully off of Aoife, still clutching my weaponry. An arrow whizzed above my head at about the same level my kidneys had previously been; Aoife roared and snipped the head off the Sniper who'd foolishly attempted to take me out. Good girl.

While my loyal mount spat out crematory matter, who else but that infernal Bishop trotted up to me. "Are you all right, General?" What a ninny, referring to me like that when I was clearly no longer a General.

But I blinked as I realized that his light, lyrical voice had taken on a rougher tone. By the robes of Elimine, he actually sounded like a man! And not just any man.

"Where did you learn that order, Lucius?" I hissed, narrowing my golden eyes in a threatening manner. 'Step out left' was military lingo, something that no civilian would know, much less a peace-mongering holy man.

"Oh, you pick things up, I suppose." He shrugged it off almost casually, the little twit. Suddenly his crystalline eyes swept over to his right; his expression coolly dismissive, he twitched his wrist at a pair of goons coming at us with what looked like sickles. They promptly exploded in a burst of light. "I mean, I _have_ been traveling with what is essentially a mercenary camp for almost two years now," he continued as though we had not been interrupted at all.

Huh. It seemed the pretty boy had a few tricks up his voluminous sleeves. Looked like it fell to me to show him just how much he did _not _know about military life. I felt myself split into a grin reminiscent of my wyvern as I remounted Aoife.

"So tell me, boy," I said, extending a hand to Lucius. "Ever rode on a wyvern before?"

**

* * *

**

Lucius

I tried very, very hard to keep from thinking about my turning stomach and focused on clinging to Vaida for my dear life—which wasn't exactly safe either, seeing as how her mature physique was affecting me in an entirely inappropriate way, and if she figured _that_ out, then my life was just as forfeit.

_Ulp_. Why did I have to develop an attraction to strong women? It was so much easier when it was only the men I had to worry about!

Oh, don't look so surprised. You'd swing both ways too if they made you take a vow of celibacy and then paraded handsome men around in front of you!

Vaida steered us into a sharp climb to avoid arrows, leaning back and forcing me to attach myself even more forcibly to her. It was strange how she was so lean, yet so soft…

I shook my head feverishly. I just wasn't used to the lower oxygen levels; that was it. They were making my thoughts wander.

"General Vaida!" I shouted to be heard over the rushing wind. Somehow I was unable to call her anything but that. She just commanded so much authority so effortlessly; I knew in her heart she'd never stopped being a General. "Do you think perhaps you could put me down?"

She grinned over her shoulder at me, golden eyes alight. "Whatever for, good Bishop? This way you can survey the battlefield!"

_More like reintroduce the battlefield to what I had for lunch, _I thought miserably as my stomach cartwheeled again. "Then would you please fly a little more… er… modestly?"

Vaida rolled her alluring reptilian eyes. "These are standard evasive tactics, pretty boy. But I suppose I could tone it down for a newbie."

We glided gently down towards the war zone, and I found that I could indeed see the battlefield much more easily this way. Gripping onto Vaida's trim waist, I leaned over slightly and gestured at a group of baddies who were giving Hawkeye trouble. Once they were taken care of, I fired off another shot at two who were trying to sneak up on Rebecca and Lyn.

Vaida sniffed. "Hm. You're not a bad marksman." And promptly hurled her lance through the skull of an enemy who was approximately a hundred yards away.

I smiled despite myself. "You're not bad either, General."

"I know _that_," she replied as we swooped down to recover her lance. "Now let's wrap this up, there's only a few of them left."

**

* * *

**

Maddie

I was in the infirmary being treated for a sword in the pancreas when our victory horns sounded. My attempt at triumphant laughter only hurt, so I tried to keep still while Priscilla inched the blade out of my body.

"This is probably going to scar," she said in an apologetic tone. By this time the healing was far enough along that I could get away with a shrug. "I don't really mind. Scars are cool, I think."

She smiled gently at me, and then the blue light subsided, leaving my oblique area with a shiny new patch of skin. It felt sore and tense, but Pris assured me that I would have full range of motion once I stretched out.

Which it looked like we might actually have time to do; everyone was so exhausted from the battle that none of us wanted to even think about entering the mountain, even as we were so close to it. I might be able to squeeze one more night of rest out of my life just yet…

And then Hector, the bastard, went and dashed my dreams apart. "We're moving, people! Let's get healed and let's get going, chop chop!"

Cries of complaint rose up among us, but Lyn's authoritative voice silenced us. "If we stay here tonight we could wake up tomorrow surrounded by another army. We can't lose momentum now when we're so close."

As much as I hated to admit it, Lyn was right. I really did not want to repeat a battle this big. The Cards had to be dealt with, and quick, like a Band-Aid. Testing my limbs, I judged that I could crank out one more fight. And if not…

Well, then I'd get to rest for an eternity, wouldn't I?

Suddenly Dodds's voice sounded throughout the camp, sounding far too jubilant for the situation. "IT WORKED! IT ACTUALLY WORKED!"

* * *

So Dodds leveled up. Yay for him. But how will the rest of our dimension-hopping warriors fare against their unearthly foes? Find out in the next installment of _Triple Entente_!

Hey, that wasn't half bad. I should get a job doing that. As always, please review, or you will experience first-hand what it's like to be on the business end of a cattle prod.


	11. Red: the Blood of Angry Men

_Oh, how it's been so long_

_I'm so sorry I've been gone_

_I was busy writing chapters for you…_

Yeah, it's lockheedelektra, back again after nearly nine months. Yyyep. I understand that I've taken way, way too long to update. I understand if you guys are mad at me. But, the good news is: writer's block has been conquered! Huzzah!

And so, without further ado since you're all rather impatient to get to read the next chapter already, I present to you the eleventh chapter of _Triple Entente_.

-LE

_

* * *

_

_Our journey began in the darkness._

_And in the darkness it shall end._

* * *

I didn't start to panic until the door shut behind us. Honest. Sure, as our party entered the mouth of the cave, there was an old familiar tensing in my shoulders, and my palms were probably a little sweaty, but I wasn't _panicking._

But then there came the sound of a stone door sliding slowly but irrevocably into place. The light that had formerly penetrated the cave narrowed into a sliver, then vanished, and I might as well have been blind for all the good my eyes did me. Even then I contained the shout that was rising in my throat, holding out in case some torches decided to flare up.

Yet no such relief came; our group began to murmur, and the clank of armor on weaponry echoed in the cave. My heart thrummed faster, until I could barely hear anything but the blood throbbing in my ears. Then abruptly that was gone as well, without ceremony or flash, leaving me in confusion for a few moments before it hit me.

I wasn't just blind now. I was deaf.

About _then_ was when I truly started to panic. Fumbling and tense, I reached out to see if I could find somebody. My desperate hand clawed at a cloak, a plate of armor, but they seemed to melt away as a terrible numbness took over my body. I couldn't feel the ground beneath my feet, nor the rise and fall of my chest as I gulped in air. I felt, saw, heard, smelled, tasted… nothing. All of it gone, even myself.

I think I screamed then. There's no way to really be sure. The only thing assuring me that I even still existed was my mind, which had shut down all coherent thought in favor of primeval terror. The only thought I could form was _RUN_, and whether my body obeyed or not, I still don't know.

When my senses crashed back to me all at once I screamed again, the sudden flood of input overloading my brain. The world had never been so agonizing. The weight of my limbs was phenomenal compared to the void from before, and as I collapsed to the floor I was dumbfounded by how fucking _red_ the carpet was, so vibrant it was unearthly. All the colors stood out like never before, so crazily vivid I wondered if I was seeing some strange new spectrum. The wheezing of my lungs as they drew in breath was almost abrasive to hear.

Apparently there was a God, because eventually my everything stopped hurting and my head stopped spinning. The capability of speech returned to me and I swore a few times—because if you're going to relish the ability to speak, you're going to swear. They're just so fun to say.

"My, but that's descriptive. Where ever did you learn that one?"

My curse-word-fiesta ceased immediately at the sound of the sultry voice. I scrambled back a few feet without even looking up to see who it was, because I'd already committed that voice to memory. When you hear a Card speak, you _never_ forget what they sound like. It's impossible.

"Dame," I hissed. She chuckled throatily in response. The Queen of Hearts was wearing what could be perceived as a "battle outfit", only it looked like one of those getups conceived by horny comic book artists—meaning that it left way too much exposed for it to be sensible for actual combat. Wearing an outfit like that meant you were either incredibly stupid or supremely overconfident.

Either way, it was an advantage for me. And I'd need all the advantages I could get. Because even though she was in a ridiculous outfit, even though she looked like she'd never fought a day in her life, I could practically taste the power rolling off of Dame. If I started thinking this would be easy, that raw malice would flay me alive.

Dame's full lips curled into a smirk. "Well then. Shall we begin?"

* * *

**Fil**

I was _so_ ready for a big-ass fight. _So_ ready. As soon as the lights went out I got that feeling you get when you _know _something's about to go down—you don't think about it, you don't imagine the possibilities of it, you just _know_. As soon as I got my senses back I would be staring down one bad mothafucka. I was absolutely sure of it.

And that's what I kept telling myself as I watched some girly-looking dude prance around the room while I waited for my head to stop hurting. This guy was just the valet or some shit. My _real_ enemy was hiding behind a sliding panel in the wall or beneath a trapdoor. There was absolutely no way I had to fight… _this._

"Oh, I've been _ever_ so excited about this! Ever since Jack told us there were people who had Crossed—ooh!" His long blond hair flew as he hopped and clapped for joy. _Hopped and clapped_, for fuck's sake. _Dear God, please get me out of here. I don't care if I have to fight a damn giant. Anything is better than this nutjob._

Now look, I've got nothing against gay people, or bi people or whatever. As long as they're _respectable_. I was having a hell of a time trying to take this guy seriously when he kept acting like an idiot.

There was a puff of air on the back of my neck and I lurched forward, wheeling around to spot its source. As soon as I did, he waved back at me, a coy smile on his effeminate face. _Okay, I just had a shemale come onto me. _Creepy, but I could deal with that.

What was bothering me was the fact that he'd taken my back. When I'd had my eyes on him the entire time. _Never even saw the bastard move_. I was sure paying attention now.

"Good," he chirped. "Your reflexes should be faster now. Things always move faster when they're afraid.

"Besides, it's no fun killing the slow ones. They never see it coming, and they die with this stupefied expression on their face instead of fear," he continued in that buoyant tone.

_The hell is this guy playing at?_ I took a step back, finally understanding why innocent-sounding children were employed in horror movies and not liking it one bit. There's something wrong with seeing something cute and happy say things befitting a serial killer.

"Look man, I don't know who you think you are, but I'm not here to screw around," I said, calling up some reliable ol' male bravado. "I'm here to fight the Cards."

The girly guy paused, then chuckled lowly. "My mistake," he said, and swept into a graceful, flourishing bow, his eyes never leaving mine. "My name is Jacques. Otherwise known as the Jack of Hearts."

And then he vanished. And I don't mean he disappeared in a puff of smoke or anything like that. He just _was_, and then he _wasn't_, like a stop-motion movie without enough frames. I snapped my head around, searching for where he might have gone. Left, right, behind… no sign of him. The spacious room was empty, and silent as the grave except for the backbeat of my heart.

Then I realized that if I was in a horror movie, I'd be screaming at myself from the audience, yelling, "Look _up_, you dumbfuck!"

I did, and leapt out of the way to avoid the silver arrow that rocketed down from the ceiling; a little slice of pain flared up on my shin and I stumbled a bit when I landed. Stupid arrow must've nicked me. Better than having it go through my brain, but still, it was annoying.

I looked back up and saw Jacques, with a silvery-looking bow in his hand, clinging to the ceiling like freaking Spider-man. Or maybe Dracula was a better example, because he was just standing on the ceiling like gravity had decided to invert itself where he was concerned. I remembered to shut my mouth after a few seconds.

That must have amused him, because he cracked a smirk and pushed off the ceiling, landing with a nimble little flip. Not that I really cared how graceful he looked, because I'd started charging at him as soon as he'd moved. So the bastard could defy gravity. Big deal. I'd just have to beat the floatiness out of him.

But before I could reach him to commence said beating, my left shin—the same one that the arrow had scratched—dissolved into numbness, and I hit the ground. If I'd been anyone but a boxer, I might have broken my thigh bone from suddenly landing my entire body weight on one knee. Thankfully I'd fallen to the ground enough times to know how to do it properly, and I relaxed enough to avoid snapping my leg in half.

Of course, there was still the problem of me not being able to feel the whole lower part of my leg. I struggled to stand back up, but the numbness was making it difficult. Really, it was the numbness; I definitely was _not_ panicking on top of it.

While I was busy not panicking, Jacques slowly started walking towards me, the sound of his red boots on the hardwood floor echoing around the room. _Shit. Come on, you bastard, move!_

"Enjoying the Kiss of the Rift?" He asked, his light voice far too close for my liking. I scrambled frantically, trying to find some way around the lump of dead weight that was my leg; as Jacques's footsteps neared I gave up attempting to stand and just shoved myself backwards with my arms, desperate to put as much distance between us as possible.

And then a crimson boot landed deliberately on my hand.

"The arrows are coated with the substance of the Rift itself," he said smoothly, like I hadn't been crawling for my life. "Just a scratch, and you're like the fly in my spider web."

He knelt down and his hand threaded through my hair and jerked my head up, forcing me to look into his eyes. Eyes like hellfire. Jacques split into a grin that would have been charming on a normal person; instead it just made me realize that I was practically trapped on the ground, defenseless, with a sadistic pansexual demon-thing standing over me.

"Good," he purred. "Such wonderful _fear._"

And then he leaned in and shoved his tongue in my mouth.

It wasn't a kiss. Those are enjoyable. This was not. That's as much as I'm going to go into it. After that… intrusion… I gained a full and thorough understanding of what the big fuss about rape was.

After a few agonized, revolted seconds, my brain restarted and immediately set off every survival instinct in the book. For a moment my body went on autopilot, acting without any conscious command; I slammed my jaw closed, feeling something _crunch_ between my teeth. The Jack of Hearts withdrew with a sharp inhale, and I took the opportunity to wrap my hands around his neck, digging my thumbs into the hollow of his throat and slamming him onto the ground.

I had no way of knowing for sure if the Cards had human bodies, and could die in the same ways we could. All I understood was that the fucker had been about to _rape_ me, and I was going to _choke him the fuck out_.

Until the bastard kneed me in the crotch, that is. That kind of distracted me a little. And in that small gap, Jacques somehow flipped me onto my stomach and got me into a wrestling hold, bending my spine in a way that it simply does not bend and cinching my airway closed.

Motherfucker. I'm a boxer, not a wrestler. Grappling is not my strong point. Unfortunately, this wasn't gym class, and I couldn't just tap out to get out of it. And my vision was starting to fog…

Adrenaline makes you do crazy things. I started flailing randomly, willing to try anything no matter how spastic it looked. The second his hold loosened I slammed my head backward, feeling the back of my skull crack his nose. His hands flew up to his broken nose and I wormed out from underneath him; when he realized I'd escaped he whirled on me again, but I could see his eyes tearing up and knew he wouldn't be able to read my movements well.

Before I had time to hesitate I leapt on him again; while we grappled I searched madly for his quiver. I couldn't fend him off well enough with one hand, and my back hit the floor again—but not before I'd seized one slender silver arrow.

_Smile, you son of a bitch. _I drove the paralyzing arrow into his eye. Blood splashed onto my cheek and Jacques retched off me, howling in perceived pain. His cries became less articulate by the second as the paralysis reached his mouth, until finally his whole face went completely slack.

Then he slumped over. His blood seeping across the hardwood floor seemed unreal somehow, like fake Hollywood blood. I had to touch my face and see the crimson liquid on my fingertips to be sure he hadn't bled out dyed corn syrup. But seeing it on my hands was what made all the difference.

It's one thing to kill somebody during a large-scale battle. There's nothing personal about it. Killing somebody with your own hands, for your own reasons, is something entirely different.

As I sat there looking at the Jack of Heart's corpse, feeling slowly started coming back into my numbed leg. I was grateful for the distraction and pounded my heel into the ground, which never helps that pins-and-needles sensation, but it made me feel better.

I wiped the blood off my face with my shirt and stood hastily, turning away from Jacques's corpse. I had always assumed that people I fought with died afterward, but it had never felt so permanent. It was like the games of pretend when you were a kid. You "died", then got up three seconds together and continued to fight Martian invaders or whatever. But that was nothing like this. This was gruesome, unavoidable. This was the reality of death.

I glanced behind me to make sure that Jacques hadn't reanimated in a sick parody of those childhood games. His body still lay there, slumped in an unnatural pose. As I looked closer I saw that his flesh was starting to dissipate into red mist. For some reason I didn't want that mist to touch me.

When I turned back around there was a set of double doors waiting for me. Without looking back, I charged through them, into the next room.

* * *

**Maddie**

I ducked down as Dame's whip cracked; the length of braided leather whisked over the top of my head, brushing the ends of my hair. I rolled forward and ran towards Dame as soon as I came out of the roll, urging my limbs to move at full speed.

But even as I raced towards her, she sprouted a smirk, viridian eyes gleaming. Her arm snapped back in the other direction and the whip swiftly coiled around me, binding my arms to my sides. Before I could react she tugged me upward with monstrous strength; I sailed through the air in a vicious arc, and the floor rushed up towards me…

I had never been so glad to have learned how to fall. At the last moment I curled myself into the proper position, taking the brunt of the fall on the broad plane of my back. The impact made my teeth rattle in my head—but at least my head was still on my shoulders instead of shoved into my stomach. I grit my teeth as I felt Dame start to whip me around again; soon enough the ground was rising up towards me again, and I braced myself for another harsh landing…

After a full five-minute eternity, Dame ceased using me to beat up the room. Her muted footfalls reached me and I went very, very still, hardly even breathing. Thankfully I hadn't broken any ribs, and I even though I felt like a pile of ground beef I could still think well enough to play dead. I just had to fool her long enough…

"Hmph. And you had such potential."

Her stiletto-heeled boot began to nudge me into a different position; that was when I struck. I seized her ankle and yanked it towards me right as I rammed a punch into her shin bone; the conflicting forces worked their brutal magic and I felt her leg snap.

While she screeched in a very un-ladylike fashion, I got my legs underneath me and pushed upward, using the momentum to fuel a palm-heel strike intended to drive the bridge of her nose into her brain. Just in time she changed position to avoid the fatal blow, but I had entered a state of flow, and I took a sweep at her shattered leg.

The limb couldn't take any additional abuse and she fell to the ground—but her red fingernails clawed at my robe and she brought me down with her. She raked at my face with those talons, giving me a few good scratches before I seized her hands and squeezed. Hard.

More bones broke in a cacophony of tiny pops. She shrieked again and lunged forward, perfect white teeth snapping at my nose in a last resort. She was certainly persistent. I would give her that.

As Dame dove for my jugular I released her hands and stood, taking a few steps back from her; she followed me up and flew at me, reaching out with her useless broken hands. I rotated on my heel and let her pass me, taking her back and preparing to let loose with a side thrust kick that would, with any luck, crack her spine.

But the Queen of Hearts glanced over her shoulder and locked her eyes with mine, and I felt myself pinned to the spot, unable to move. It was her eyes again, that blatant, concentrated hatred and rage. She was thinking only of killing me, no matter how much damage it might cause her.

Yet all that murderous intent did her no good; she put her weight on her shattered leg and fell to the ground again with a lyrical cry of pain. As I walked towards her prone form, I felt something like pity flare up in my chest. The logical part of my mind suppressed it, said that she was our enemy and not one to sympathize with. But that didn't stop the tiny sense of guilt I felt as I slammed an axe kick into her spine. Dame made a choking sound and finally her body came to rest on the floor. She twitched a few times, and then was still.

I watched her for a few tense minutes to make sure she wasn't pulling the same stunt I had. I might be absent-minded, but I'm not enough of a fool to fall for my own trick.

When I saw her start to dissolve into a crimson mist I was satisfied that my finisher had worked, and I let out a heavy breath. The fight had taken a surprising amount of energy out of me, and I took a few moments to rest before I straightened up and searched for a way out of the room. Even though I could have sworn that there were no doors to be seen earlier, as soon as I looked for one a set of French doors appeared in the wall right before me.

Caution would have probably been smarter, but the chemicals pumping through my blood were making me feel just a little stupid. I went through the doors unquestioningly.

The room I entered was large, and inlaid with all different shades of gleaming wood. The accents on the walls were carved elaborately, invoking Renaissance-era decadence. As I glanced around, motion in my peripheral vision caught my attention; it turned out to be Fil emerging from a second door on my right. Shortly afterward, Casey followed him, appearing through another door at my left. Fil was badly bruised and looked like he had seen something he would take to his grave; Casey was bleeding from three separate places and was breathing harshly.

"The guy was double-wielding axes," he explained breathily, jerking his thumb back at the room he'd come from. "Nearly did me in."

"So then I shall simply have to finish the job."

The three of us turned our heads to the far side of the room from whence the voice had come, where a massive staircase led up to a semicircular platform. A man was descending the staircase, though I was positive that I hadn't seen him there before.

His appearance wasn't terribly intimidating. He was on the short side; a little thin, with the face of an uptight accountant. He wore 18th century clothing, with overcoat and knee-high socks and everything, even a poofy white wig. Something about his face seemed strangely familiar, and I strained to recall where I'd seen him before…

When I did remember I felt the blood drain from my face. There was a person who had this man's face, but he'd been dead for over 200 years. Before that, he had led once of the most violent revolutions in history, one that dyed the streets of Paris red with blood from the guillotine.

Still, if what Darian had told me about the Ace of Clubs applied to the rest of the Aces, we were dealing not with Maxmilien Robespierre, but someone far, far worse.

By this time the man had reached the bottom of the staircase. He made a polite little bow, flourishing slightly with his hand. "I see you three have bested my Court. My congratulations, but you will not be allowed to pass any further."

I glanced at Casey and Fil, and we shared one of those moments that aren't quite telepathic but you somehow still understand what the others are thinking. And the boys were thinking the exact same thing that I was.

"I am Gagnant, the Ace of Hearts." The unassuming-looking man drew a sword that had suddenly materialized at his hip and assumed a fencing stance, his vermillion eyes twinkling darkly. "Come, and let us see if the strength that defeated my Court will be enough to beat me."

He didn't have to ask us twice.

We flew at him, Casey taking the left and Fil taking the right while I shot straight towards Gagnant. Casey reached him first and took a swing at the little Ace; Gagnant's sword flickered and caught Casey on the side of his face. If our brawler had had any slower reflexes, it might have opened his throat, but instead it left him with a gash on his cheek. Still, the speed of the strike was alarming, and Casey backed up a few steps. Both Fil and I had stopped just outside Gagnant's range as well, and for a few seconds all four of us were still.

_Damn, that was fast. Almost like he grew another arm…_

Gagnant raised an eyebrow. "Lost your nerve? Very well then, I shall come to you."

Then he lunged towards Fil—he lunged very, very slowly. Compared to the speed of his arms it was like he was moving through molasses. It was that speed that set off warning bells in my head; usually when someone's fast, they're fast all over. This pointed to a new trick—something we hadn't previously foreseen.

Of course, I didn't think any of these things in the form of coherent sentences, and they only took up a fraction of a second. I still had to help Fil.

I went for Gagnant, hoping that I could catch the secret of his moves, or at least double-team him with Fil. I saw his vermillion eye slide over to me, and then his sword was whipping towards my head. With a burst of effort I pushed myself forward just a few more inches; as soon as I'd cleared his sword I seized his arm and twisted it behind his back. With my new leverage I dropped him to the ground, using my weight on his arm to keep him on his knees.

"Gotcha, you little—the fuck?"

Making sure my eyes weren't deceiving me, I counted Gagnant's limbs again. His left arm, the sword arm I was holding… and another arm, holding another sword that he was still pointing at Fil. It wasn't that he was ridiculously fast, then. He just grew extra limbs.

"So you've discovered my trick," he said mildly, to no one in particular. "You are the first ones to do so. But it will make no difference."

And then a sword ripped through my left shoulder.

My body erupted into pain and I released Gagnant, holding back the scream that was surging into my throat like lava. As I stumbled away from him I saw that a fourth sword-arm was emerging from his back, the blade dripping red with my life's blood. Gagnant stood up, his arms rearranging themselves until they were more evenly spaced, a sword in each hand. He was a cross between a destructive Hindu god and an 18th-century lawyer, possibly the two cruelest beings there were.

But that didn't mean he couldn't be beaten.

I had another pseudo-telepathic moment with Casey and Fil, and nodded when I thought they'd gotten the message. They bobbed their heads back, and I put my plan into motion.

Charging again at Gagnant, I made sure to make my movements look convincing. I clenched my fist tight, shot my punch out like I meant it—but immediately sprang backwards when I saw another arm rocketing towards me.

I shifted to a different area of his range and moved in again, timing my movements so that they'd be syncopated with Casey and Fil, who were using the same tactics I was. We ducked and dodged, bobbed and weaved, advancing like we really meant to hit him this time but always pulling back at the last second before his newly generated arms could land a counterstrike.

In short, we were faking very convincingly.

In a few minutes the fruit of our labor was starting to show. Gagnant's movements were becoming more clumsy, more uncoordinated. He didn't have enough room to swing his swords. He had grown so many arms that they had become cumbersome, a bunch of dead weight instead of useful tools. Casey, Fil, and I continued to flit around him, forcing his slow eyes to try to keep up with our swift movements.

When he was focused on Casey I shifted in and planted a roundhouse kick that would do Chuck Norris proud right on his temple. He stumbled, but didn't fall just yet, and whirled to face me—only to walk right into Fil's left hook. I drew his attention back to me so that Casey could plant a nice right cross right on his kisser. So our cycle continued: fake, distract, pummel, with Gagnant's head becoming more bruised and battered after every strike, his multitudinous arms flapping uselessly.

At long last he fell to the ground, his crimson eyes rolling back in his head, his arms receding back into his body. I hit the ground, too, kneeling on the thick carpet and holding my injured shoulder. It had been more difficult than I thought it would be to keep up speed with that injury, but we'd done it. There was a strange noise in my ears—fuzzy, almost, like white noise—but I chalked it up to adrenaline and blood loss. Just a few vulneraries and I'd be fine…

Spots swam in front of my eyes and I shook my head vigorously. No, something wasn't right. Next to me, Casey and Fil hadn't dropped yet, but they seemed to be exhibiting the same symptoms I was. The air didn't smell right—there was sweat, and the irony scent of blood, but something else I couldn't pin down. What was happening?

A low chuckle emitted from Gagnant that snapped me back into a state of awareness. He was obviously about to die—no one could take that much head trauma and live—but still he wheezed out a laugh.

The static sound grew louder, to the level of background music in a movie. My head began to pound with an acute ache that could split my skull open. The air sizzled the way it does when some big mojo is about to be unleashed. The way it had sizzled so long ago, when we were just three kids celebrating our graduation at Six Flags. When we had no idea what kind of situation we were about to get ourselves into.

Gagnant sneered up at us, the expression mangled by the beating he'd taken. His lips moved, but at this point I could hardly make out the words. The sound of static plunged into my ears, distorting what he was saying. The room seemed to tilt; the light grew brighter and dimmer like someone was fiddling with the knobs on some cosmic TV screen.

The static grew even louder, more, strident, and I fell to my knees, holding my hands over my ears in a vain attempt to block out the sound. I felt Casey and Fil hit the ground next to me, and the lights cranked up to maximum, painting my world a golden white…

* * *

And there you have it. The epic battles have begun! How will our other trinites fare in their own fights? Tune in next time on _Triple Entente_!

Darian: *prods with cattle prodder* Now get a move on! Write that next chapter!

All right, all right... remember to review!


	12. Black: the Dark of Ages Past

LE DISCLAIMER: Don't own a cent of Fire Emblem.

HA HA HA, hey there, guys. Been a while, yes? Yes, indeed it has...

You've got my buds to thank for this one, again. Without their death-threats I never would have ignored schoolwork long enough to work on writing at all. They're good people.

So, Merry ChristmaHanuKwanzaDanWaliYule and happy 2010! And without further ado, I give you the twelfth chapter of _Triple Entente_.

-LE (lockheedelektra)

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**Dodds**

I've never been really religious. Yeah, I milk—I mean celebrate—both Christmas and Hanukah, but it's more out of family tradition and desire for an Oblivion expansion pack than a passion for religion.

So it was somewhat ironic that I was fervently invoking the name of every deity that I had ever heard.

"Jesus! Allah! Buddha! Ganesha! Flying Spaghetti Monster! PLEASE!"

I ducked just in time to avoid the rather painful-looking mace that came sailing at my face; the head of the mace took a chunk out of the stone wall behind me and I scuttled further along the wall before Jackson could swing at me again.

So far, the only reason my head hadn't made like a banana and split was because I was faster than him. But I wasn't faster by much. And the leaden weight of the mace was nothing to him, whereas my hefty, clumsy tome was making my muscles ache. At this rate, I'd hardly have any juice left to use on magic.

Apparently when I consider using magic, it shows on my face.

"Thinking about zapping me again?" Jackson sneered, twirling the mace in his hand like it was a Q-tip. "Or maybe torching me? Feel free. I could use a good tan."

_Damn, he's right. _For all his sarcasm, Jackson had a hide like a rhinoceros. I'd tested some of my old reliable spells on him to no effect. I was seriously running out of options. But…

The dungeon was dimly lit. When Jackson passed through the light of a torch, I saw that the skin of his arms was a nice shiny red. He wasn't immune to my magic, but it would take a lot of wattage to fry him.

I ran my thumb over the Guiding Ring on my index finger. Good thing I'd leveled up. With my secret move, I just might have enough power to do the job.

While I dodged Jackson's swings, I fumbled in my pocket for the scrap of paper I'd prepared earlier. Well, technically Whitney and Canas had helped with the components, but the idea behind it was mine. I had their assurance that it would work, but I had never tested the spell before. It wasn't exactly a repeat-friendly piece of magic.

With a leap I managed to put enough distance between myself and Jackson that I had time to draw out the paper. He gave it a quick glance and chuckled. "What, going to give me a paper cut now?"

"Not quite," I replied, sweeping the paper across the front of my belt. Once the motion was done, the paper caught fire and floated in my palm; the words inscribed on the paper glowed golden, showing that my spell was starting to activate.

Jackson's black eyes widened and he rushed at me again, but I was done letting him run the show. I threw the paper in the air and jumped after it; at the very height of my jump, I kicked the flaming scrap as hard as I could, channeling all my magical energy down my leg and into a single point on my foot.

With a shower of sparks, the paper flared into a mini-meteor and rocketed at Jackson. It caught him square in the chest, exploding into flame when it hit, the fire engulfing Jackson and seeping into him through his mouth, his ears, his eyes. The force of the blow tossed him across the chamber and into the stone wall opposite me; he slammed into the rocks with enough force to leave a Jackson-sized imprint.

He almost peeled off the wall like he was a cartoon; it took a few minutes of him not moving before I decided to approach his fallen body. I regretted doing so almost as soon as I saw him; while he seemed undamaged externally, his eyes had been boiled out of his skull, and there was a gelatinous substance that rather resembled brains oozing out of his ears and nose.

As I looked at him and tried not to lose my lunch, a fine black mist began emanating from him, seeping through his pores. The section of wall he'd hit abruptly crumbled, leaving a gap wide enough for me to walk through. Through the gap I could see another chamber like this one: made of stone, with a gothic look to it, dimly lit by torches. There was no way of knowing what was on the other side, but I sure as hell didn't want to be in here with Jackson and his weird mist and leaking orifices. I stepped into the next room.

"About time you got here. I was startin' to worry."

Joe's familiar voice sounded off from my right; he sat inside the circle of light from a torch, winding bandages around a stab wound on his shoulder. He had a few other slashes and punctures over his chest and arms, and one cut just above his eyebrow. His most serious wound, though, was a deep gash on his right thigh. He'd used his belt as a tourniquet, but something had to be done or he could lose the leg. Aed stood beside him, his equine face somehow looking worried. Every once in a while he nuzzled Joe's hair.

I took out the little Heal stave that Nino had given me as congratulations for leveling up. Holding it over Joe's injured leg, I let the blue light wash over him and stitch the wound closed. My focus wasn't yet good enough to heal it entirely, but it stopped bleeding and formed a sturdy-looking clot. The power I couldn't focus on his leg wound sloshed over his other injuries, healing the minor ones sloppily yet effectively.

Just as the light from my staff faded, I heard a set of doors on my left bang open. Someone took a few shuffling steps into the chamber, their breathing heavy; they gave a choked-off sound of pain and fell to the floor with a boneless _thump._

Joe and I were motionless for a beat. Then, without a word, the Falcoknight hauled himself up and crept over to where the person had fallen. I followed behind him, trying to see who the person was while still staying shielded by Joe's broad frame. I couldn't see much, but the dim torchlight glimmering on dark, curly hair was enough.

With a low sound that might have been a swear, Joe knelt down and gently turned Zac over. The Assassin groaned, his eyes cracking open. "Guys…"

"Don't try to talk," Joe said, voice steady and calm. "Dodds is gonna heal you up."

I took my cue and held the Heal stave over Zac. In its azure light I could see the myriad cuts that crisscrossed his body; they looked wrong, too thin for even the sharpest of blades. My eyes adjusted more and the pattern of the cuts became clearer. They weren't straight lines at all, but curving, twisting, elaborate patterns like lace. Blood seeped from them in a steady pulse, sheathing Zac's limbs in crimson.

"She had… needles…" Zac wheezed. "Just a little girl… didn't want to… hurt her too badly…"

"So she used you for sewing practice," Joe muttered, shaking his head. Zac nodded weakly, his eyes rolling in his head as he did. I didn't feel much stronger than him; his wounds were mending, but not completely. I was running out of energy to use on magic, and the light of my stave started flickering. _Not good. Definitely not good._

With a final push of effort I sealed off the last of Zac's wounds; I could tell that they were only closed tenuously, though. Any strenuous motion could cause them to open again. Hopefully we could find the group and get him fully healed soon…

Ah, if only life were that easy.

There was the crisp sound of footsteps echoing off the stone walls; I glanced around, trying to find the source of it, but it seemed to be coming from everywhere at the same time. My pulse sped up and I hoped that it was someone from the group coming to rescue us. The steps persisted, growing more distinct until finally I could pinpoint the source of it.

I looked in that direction, but the owner of the footsteps was still hidden, outside the light of the torches. Next to me, Joe squinted, trying to peer through the darkness and make out the figure. Aed trotted towards us hastily, his wings fluttering, and took a position next to Joe. Zac didn't look up, but he shuddered. "That smell…" he murmured. "It's not right…"

The footsteps halted abruptly, and there was a low chuckle from the darkness. "How poetic, that a son of Canaan should be brought here to me. I suppose this would be history repeating itself, in a sense."

The voice, marked with a German accent, made a chill run down my spine. It wasn't a voice that I recognized, but as I heard it something in the back of my brain started screaming in rage. Something half-realized, part consciousness and part heredity, hated that voice.

And then the figure stepped fully into the light of a torch, and I knew why.

You know how I said that I'm not really religious? It's true, but that doesn't change what I am. It doesn't change what my ancestors endured at the hands of a madman bent on world domination. It doesn't change the fact that every time I see images of sickly thin bodies packed into filthy rooms, like cattle, every time I see how they were abused and humiliated until they didn't feel human anymore, something boils up inside me and I could just kill anyone who could have perpetrated it.

And standing before me was the very man who orchestrated the entire thing.

I didn't think about the impossibility of it, or the fact that I was dead tired and almost out of energy. I just thought that Adolf Hitler was standing there, looking so arrogant and secure in his power, and I was going to bash his head in.

Joe placed a solid, immovable hand on my shoulder before I could launch myself at Hitler. "Get a hold of yourself," he said quietly. "You know that's not really him."

I grit my teeth, clenched my fists, but somehow I managed to back off. Still, I felt my rage sticking like a lump in my throat, and I glared at Hitler and thought of sharp pointy things. Beside me, Joe was just as rational as ever, cool and level-headed.

"I assume you're the Ace of… Clubs, right?"

"Correct," the murdering bastard said. "I am called Eingeweihter." He smiled, and there was something just utterly wrong about it. "Now, what do you say we settle this dispute like gentlemen?"

"Like _gentlemen_?!" I spat. "Because you're so freaking gentlemanly, aren't you?"

"Dodds," Joe said, his voice stern. Behind me I heard Zac stirring, perfectly silent except for the sliding of his cloak against stone. Eingeway… gewheth… Einge gave another disconcerting smile, gleaming dark eyes looking directly at me. "I can be quite sociable if I so choose, just as the previous owner of this face could. Why, I can even be downright charismatic."

"We know," Joe said, and for the first time I heard a note of anger in his voice. "Believe us, we know."

Zac's quiet presence hovered just behind me; he'd made it to his feet.

"Well, then," Einge said, "you know that I can also cast off that charisma quite easily." He spoke in the same tone of voice as before, measured, almost polite, but something in his eyes glowed feverishly. "You do not want to discover what I am capable of, boys. I can only tell you that it will involve searing agony and a long, slow, humiliating death. And that I will enjoy it very much."

Then suddenly I could see it, the madness, the cruelty, the twisted mind that would relish inflicting as much pain on us as possible. He was just waiting for us to say no, waiting for us to bring it to a fight. He welcomed that. Hoped for that. And it scared the crap out of me.

I glanced at Joe, but if he saw what I did he didn't give any indication. Zac wasn't reacting either—in fact they both looked like they did just before a battle. Serious, but ready to move at any moment. They were going to try a straight-up frontal assault.

Before I could say anything, warn them that what they were trying was crazy, dangerous, there was a flash of metal in Zac's hand and he whipped the dagger towards Einge.

The Ace watched it come, then opened his mouth and boomed, in a voice like thunder,

"HALT!"

Amazingly, the dagger slowed, crawling forward like the air was molasses; it quivered, the trembling growing more severe as it got closer to Einge. Then it just stopped, and it flew apart.

I don't mean that it got ripped up into little shards. I mean the thing just… exploded, for lack of a better word. It was like each individual atom just zipped off in all different directions, leaving nothing but empty space.

We stared. I tried to make my knees stop shaking. If he could do that to a dagger with his voice, what could he do to vulnerable human flesh?

Einge snickered at our expressions, but then opened the dark cave of his mouth again, sucking in air…

"Cover your ears!" I shouted, slapping my hands over mine. Maybe this would work, maybe it would ward it off just enough—

"IHR SEID HOLZKOMPFS!!"

_Oh God._

The sound was _everywhere_, vibrating through every cell in my body, coming in not only through my ears but my mouth, my eyes, the pores on my skin. It felt like I was being pulled apart, every single cubic millimeter struggling to break free of the others. Einge's voice echoed off the stone walls, amplified a thousand times over, crashed onto me in wave after wave, tearing me into pieces. I was going to die…

Then abruptly it ceased, and there was just the sound of us screaming.

I gasped for breath and opened my eyes. I hadn't known I'd closed them. I hadn't known I'd fallen to the ground, either, but there I was. Zac was in a similar state, curled up in the fetal position, hands still clamped tightly over his ears. His wounds had reopened again, tearing wider in some places. Joe was actually mobile, crawling toward Aed, who was rearing madly, driven into a frenzy by Einge's voice. The Falcoknight was murmuring a prayer in between breaths as he reached out towards Aed, trying to calm the poor beast.

But Einge didn't intend to give him the chance.

"IHR SEID ALLE SCHWEINE!!"

I barely had time to keep my hands over my ears before the sound invaded me again, ripping, boiling, eviscerating…

"_Big wheels keep on turning_

_Carry me home to see my kin—_"

The sound let up just a fraction. The pain became something merely agonizing instead of ungodly. I opened my eyes just a crack, just barely enough to see Joe, his hands over Aed's ears, booming out the lyrics to "Sweet Home Alabama" like his life depended on it.

Again the sound cut off, and for a few seconds Joe kept singing until his voice quieted. Einge stared at him, a mix of appalled disgust and surprised respect on his face. "You have countered it?" he said, incredulously. Joe grinned—his polite, Southern boy grin—but there was something fierce in it. "I got plenty more where that came from, too. We can have ourselves a regular battle of the bands. Or singers, I suppose."

Einge's eyes widened as his brows drew down in a frown; he opened his mouth again, preparing to let loose another volley of sound.

But this time, we were ready for him.

"IHR WÜRTET VERLIEREN!!"

Zac stumbled to his feet, holding an arm against one of his wounds, and let out a guttural shout.

"_Devon won't go to heaven_

_She's just another lost soul about to be mine again—_"

Joe's deeper voice kept rolling along next to Zac's, steadily belting out swamp rock. My flesh still felt like it wanted to jump off my bones, and my bones still wanted to shatter; but the countering frequencies of Joe and Zac's voices made it bearable. I could hear myself think again. And the first thing I thought was: if Zac, with all his injuries, could stand up and carry a tune, I could do the same.

I got my feet underneath me and rose, emotions swelling up inside my chest. There was pride, and determination, and still a good deal of anger. This was the man who had tried to exterminate my people. If I had a chance to stick it to him, to exact justice, and didn't take advantage of it, I couldn't live with myself.

I drew in a breath and sang with all the lung power I had.

"_HAVA NAGILA _

_HAVA NAGILA_

_HAVA NAGILA VI NIS'MECHA—_"

I felt my magic returning, fueled by my rejuvenated emotions. In a weird way the vibration of my cells added to it, gave me something to fight against to make the fire burn. My voice got louder as power flooded me, rising to a fever pitch.

Fire gathered in my palms, but it felt like that small area wasn't enough. I felt the heat of it collecting in my chest and stomach, migrating to a point just over my solar plexus. I let it build, let the Fire flood my thoughts and senses until I was only aware of that single bright point where it was all gathering.

Then suddenly I couldn't contain it anymore.

The Fire burst out of me and rushed at Einge, a blazing meteor in the shape of a Star of David, and next to it was a javelin, glowing with white, divine light, and on the other side was a dagger, wicked edge gleaming with shadow, and our three voices were all running together in one defiant cacophony that screamed our will, our right to exist—

Einge tried to disrupt our attacks right up until they slammed into his chest. There was a bright flare as our attacks collided; when it dimmed down the Ace was caught in a swirl of fire and light and shadow, his body slowly disintegrating.

Yet through all that, he still shouted at the top of his lungs.

His words were garbled, but it wasn't just because his esophagus was starting to melt. Over the howl of conflicting energies, a different sound had emerged, almost like white noise. It pulsed erratically, just unpredictable enough that I couldn't separate it from what Einge was saying. I got a wicked headache just trying.

The world tilted, and suddenly I was down on my knees. _Wicked headache indeed. _The static grew louder and my eyes burned with inexplicable dryness. Still Einge screamed at us, even as shadow ate its way through his face.

My subconscious might have registered on some level what he was saying. But the static was so freaking loud, and the lights were flickering, and I was suddenly so bone-dead tired that all I wanted to do… was…

_Sleep…_

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Two down, two to go. Almost there, yo. And HEY, once I don't have to worry about plot anymore, I can write some fun little bits for y'all. Everybody likes those, right? Right?!

Anyway, as usual, reviews are appreciated. Thanks for reading!


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